Soul Theory
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: AU! There's a fine line between being top-student and a jaded moron. Maka Albarn can't understand the subtle beauty in music, can Soul Evans teach the lyrics of the soul to a damaged girl while the threat of disownment looms over him?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Soul Eater or any other media mentioned in this work of fiction.

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.01<br>**_one, two, buckle my shoe_

* * *

><p>She see's him a lot during the week. It's nothing unusual, however, there seems to be an unspoken agreement between her coworkers and her that no one but Kid and Black Star are allowed to serve him. There is no one else who tries, and Maka has never been one to step out of her comfort zone simply to prove something so pointless, unlike Black Star, who seemed to relish such challenges.<p>

He drops by fairly late into the evening on most days. Her shift nearly finishes by the time he enters through those glass doors and takes seat near the far back, huddled in the loneliest corner he could find. The folder he brings religiously, a thick folder haphazardly stuffed with stray papers that makes her curious, is always tucked under his arm when he saunters in; hands jammed in his black leather jackets pockets, looking more at ease than anyone she knows. The black headband, keeping his wild snow colored hair in check, and flat expression only increases the melancholic and dark aura that hangs around him like a black cloud.

Although, Maka is probably most apprehensive of him because of his eyes.

The rose red of his eyes.

So intense, so bright, so _piercing._

Pools of freshly split blood on the pavement, she had once described morbidly to herself, remembering the time she had struck an assaulter in the face and accidentally broke his nose. The way it sprayed on the floor, so luminous and thick, reminded her of his eyes although there wasn't any negative feelings associated with the comparison...since they made eye contact every time he entered the cafe.

It's something no one else knows about, their silent greetings that is. Not even Kid, who comes quite close to being like a brother to her sometimes, knows. It began a few days after she started working in the small corner cafe. She had been cleaning a table when he walked in, in all his dark cool glory, and her eyes had accidentally caught his own when she looked up to cheerfully welcome another customer. The cheerful greeting had caught in her throat, forever to be silenced.

They stared at each other for a while, both not knowing what to do, before he flashed his eyes away and she hastily continued to wipe down tables; uncomfortably aware that he sat somewhere behind her. She could have sworn she felt his eyes on her but eventually she decided it wasn't true, because when she turned to look at him, he was immersed in his work like nothing had ever happened.

It was nearly a week later that she discovered what he worked on so vigorously.

A music sheet.

More specifically, for the piano.

"_Who, Soul?" Black Star grinned widely. "He's a freakin' music genius! I haven't heard him play or anything but the great Black Star knows genius when he see's it! Of course, I can probably do better—!"_

"_Black Star, quiet down!" Kid scolded, returning to meticulously cleaning one of the many cafe tables. It was usually his job to clean although he waited tables when necessary; mostly because of the hoards of girls that'd visit and slit their eyes at Maka whenever she tried to take their orders. "Might I remind you that Soul is not very fond of people exploiting his hobby?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, I know!" Black Star waved off. "Whatever – he's an awesome musician. Not as great as me, though. So there." He crossed his arms and nodded firmly._

"_That's weird..." Maka murmured to herself. Kid caught her statement._

"_What is?"_

_Maka looked up at him, that ponderous expression still on her face. "Why would you want to hide something like that? Usually people like to gloat about their talents. If he's such a talented pianist then why doesn't he just come out with it?"_

_Kid studied her for a second, apprehensive. "Soul...he is—"_

"_'Cause he's a wussy, that's why!" Black Star boldly shouted, his trademark laugh following. "His brothers a dick so Soul thinks he can't match up to him or somethin—!"_

"_BLACK STAR!" Kid gasped, aghast the boy had let something so important loose. _

_The boys eyes widened. "Oops."_

"_Brother?" Maka blinked. "That shouldn't matter! Talent to some might be rubbish to others! Letting someone else put down your musical expertise just because they don't like it shouldn't be a reason for hiding it in the first place!" Maka firmly stated, Kid and Black Star staring at her with something close to surprise. "He's probably just jealous of him, anyway! Isn't rivalry common between siblings?" Maka muttered as an afterthought, sketchy on the subject since she didn't have any brothers of her own._

_Unless her papa was keeping a bastard child to himself somewhere..._

"_Ya' know, no ones really defended him like that since I, of course. I have to look after my followers, after all." Black Star grinned a little, waggling his brows at her. "Do ya' got a crush on Soul—!"_

"_MAKA CHOP!"_

"_WHY ARE MY DICIPLES CUTTING ME OFF IN THE MIDDLE OF MY SENTENCES?" Black Star shrieked, holding his throbbing head tenderly. "I demand respect! RESPECT!"_

"_Black Star, just be quiet and go take those customers' orders." Kid sighed out but not before throwing her a look of curiosity and returning to polishing the tables._

She never told anyone.

Black Star had a big mouth but she knew the only reason he had blurted it out to her was because they were on good terms and he'd grown too comfortable with her. To be on good terms with someone as arrogant and egocentric as Black Star was saying something, too, as nearly no one could bear the blue-haired boy's rants of his godliness. No one took the time or liberty to understand the boy under the guise of a god, the strong but weak boy who thrust forward such high expectations in order to overcome an internal conflict of his own.

Maka guessed it had something to do with his family, a notoriously known clan of hit-men and bosses that controlled most parts of Death City. But she can't be sure since Black Star never let on that something was wrong, what with that loud laugh of his and sparkling eyes, and Maka wasn't one to pry into someone's life like that when she had secrets of her own...

Regardless, their silent greeting of eye contact only became more frequent and warming. She eventually started smiling, her smile growing little by little until she could throw him a friendly beam of greeting before going back to her work. Soul smiled back sometimes, nodded at others. But mostly she received a crooked smirk or, if he was in a good mood, which was often rare unless he was speaking to Black Star or Kid whenever they served him, shot her a grin that showed off rows of neat sharp teeth.

But she still never attended him.

She didn't think he'd like it by the way he secluded himself in the back; a simple black coffee steaming far away from his work, a pencil in his hand as he studied the sheets below him. Sometimes he became frustrated, shown in the way his brows creased and lips pursed and he mussed his hair in thought, and sometimes his hand raced across the page furiously. She liked him better when he was on a roll: he always shot her an appreciative look of farewell, which made her flustered but glad.

But today was not a good day for Maka; and it would _not_ get better if he grinned at her.

She came late to her shift, juggling her backpack in one hand and a thick folder of notes in the other. She's silently grateful that she had not taken Instruments or else she would have to lug around an instrument that she _knows_ she'd never get around to playing, too. It would make things even worse for her. It would lower her GPA appalling simply because she didn't have the talent to play such instruments, at least not without years of practice; years she wasn't willing to invest in an instrument.

Maka doesn't like music – or, to her irritation, she doesn't understand it like everyone else seemed to. In a sense, she does, but her understanding runs fairly shallow. Whenever her teacher goes off on a tangent about pouring your heart into a song, she loses interest and, for the most part, _understanding. _It's just a bunch of notes on a paper to her! Pretty words compiled to form meaning, like a poem. Sure, sometimes she thought a song described a certain situation in her life but she never got overly emotional; it's just a _song_, just another rhyme, in her mind. She often thought poems held more meaning than generic, overused, songs and beats.

But, according to her teacher, it runs deeper than just piecing together a bunch of notes and that is what Maka cannot understand - especially when it involved instrumentals. Or movie-music, as Maka flatly called it.

It's a Tuesday today and Tuesday's are relatively slow both at school and in her workplace. She's glad for this because she has recently been transferred into the music theory class (she had missed two weeks due to scheduling difficulties) and she's way behind, despite Mr. Law's, her teacher, cheerful words of: _"we didn't get so far ahead! You just have to learn how to read between the lines! Oh, and how to read music notes. We went over the basics during the second week!" _And it is the 'read between the lines' bit that befuddles her.

She can dissect a song – English has always been a favourite subject of hers and taking apart a songs lyrics to understand its meaning is almost insultingly simple for her. But it isn't song lyrics their picking apart, not yet at least, it's the melody _itself. _

Strong melodies.

Soft melodies.

Sad melodies.

Angry melodies.

But what makes a melody a melody? What makes a song a song? The lyrics, the articulation of notes, or the 'soul' you pour into creating it? Maka thinks it's the articulation of notes and creative usage of words. Her teacher, however, merely shook his head with a strange smile on his face.

"_Maka, haven't you heard the saying that food tastes better with a little love in it?"_

"_Yes, but, it's really just the person whose good at making the food. Some people are just not cut out to cook. Some measure and know exactly what condiments go well with each other..." She stopped when she saw the spark of sad realization in his eyes. _

"_Maka, here." He said suddenly. She looked at the sheet music in confusion, frowning when she noticed she didn't understand a single thing on it. It looked like a bunch of weird scribbles to her, all those musical notes. He should know she's still catching up... "When you finish learning how to read notes, I want you to tell me the meaning of this score."_

"_What type of instrument plays it?" Maka asked curiously, taking the sheet and studying it quietly. _

"_Piano." Law smiled, a little warily. "You're the type of person I encounter every year. Don't worry, though, I'll get you in touch with your inner musician in no time!"_

Maka doesn't think much of it but the piles of homework he leaves is still killer.

She sits on a tall stool behind the cash register, staring holes into the assignment she dreads to do. Kid and Black Star are off with their group of friends: twins by the name of Liz and Patty and a pretty Asian girl who goes by Tsubaki. Sometimes, Maka speaks to them but today she cannot: she's too immersed in combating her weakness to pay heed to their calls, which eventually fade with a few shrugs of their shoulders.

She doesn't even notice Soul enter the cafe, glance at her in his usual way and raise a brow when he notices the work set out in front of her. He just sits in his usual corner when she doesn't look up and Kid attends him instantly.

Maka vaguely hears Kid sob something about Soul's totally asymmetrical hairstyle...

_Okay. I get how to read notes... kinda'. _Maka warily glances at the score her teacher handed to her. Did he expect her to sit before a piano and play it or something? There was a reason why Maka preferred to sit back and watch rather than be the one to do it: she was _terrible. _Her own taste in music was a little skewed, too, although she did have a few good artists here and there, but overall she was the dumbest one in the class, something which burned her with resentment and shame.

The top student at Shibusen High and she couldn't even understand a couple of dumb _music notes_...

"HEY! Maka!" Black Star lands in front of her, tone laced with hope. "I need you to take my shift."

"No way." She deadpans, not even looking up from her work.

"EH?" Black Star gawks, panic flooding his face. "Do you dare reject your gods request?" At her dark look, Black Star switches tactics. "C'mon, Maka! I'll pay you back, I swear! Just this one time, it's really, _really_ important!"

"What's so important that I have to stay until closing hours?" Maka arches a brow. The cafe closes late, at nine pm, which was dangerous for her even though she lived four blocks away.

Her neighborhood was not the safest haven in Death City.

In fact, it was probably the worst place for a single, sixteen year old, girl to live in by herself...

"Tsubaki, of course!" He scoffs, as if he expected nothing else. "I finally scored a date with her! YAHOO!" He slaps a hand over his mouth, adding in a whisper: "So? C'mon, Maka, you can keep working on your dumb homework and stuff! Just this one night?_ Accept this gods request...!_" He whined.

Maka releases a deep sigh. She _did_ feel rather comfortable, sitting in a well-lit room than her own dim one, which was currently severely under-furnished because she had moved out of her papa's apartment a year ago and had yet to compile enough money to go furniture shopping. Bills, necessities and extra fees ate up the money and, honestly, she only needed her bed, desk, TV, microwave, fridge and some plates, silverware and cups to keep her alive.

She sighs. "Fine..."

"YES! YOUR SACRIFICE WILL NOT GO UNREWARDED!" Black Star crows, rushing back to the group of friends who watched with laughing smiles.

Maka merely groans when she realizes she'll _have _to work on the packet of homework she had been subtly putting off.

She doesn't know how many hours pass, with the one customer here and there, but soon Kid is saying, in his own polite way, "I shall see you tomorrow, Maka. Have a safe trip home and remember not to talk to strangers," and he leaves her all alone after her own goodbye, as another girl who she doesn't know walks in to take Kid's shift...

The girl isn't friendly and Maka notices, with an annoyed frown, that she keeps looking at Soul, who has yet to move from his spot by the corner of the cafe. The business is even more slow after six and Maka is beginning to slowly lose her sanity over this _dumb, dumb, dumb piece of paper._

"Damn it, _come on_!" She growls to herself, digging her fingers into her scalp. It does _not_ settle well, not at all, that she can't understand what the dumb song means. She's deciphered half of it but the sounds make absolutely no sense to her. She's finished a few practice worksheets on notes, even though she's stuck on one because she can't figure out what the hell writing Traids has anything to do with what their learning, but that damn piano score keeps coming back to her; taunting her because she knows how a few notes sound but she can't get anything out of it.

It's just a bunch of numbers and notes to her but there _has_ be a deeper meaning, right?

Maybe he _did _want her to play it. Maybe playing it will make her understand? Maka doubted it; she could probably tell him exactly what the song meant but somehow still not get it. Maka gazes back at the worksheet she gave up on. Maybe the worksheets will help her...

_What the hell is a grand staff? He didn't teach us this! _Or maybe he did but she tuned him out? Maka groans in frustration, resisting the suicidal urge to go out and pick a fight.

"Hey, can I have another coffee?" A voice startles her from her panicked mulling.

"Huh?" Maka snaps her head up, shoving her papers under a book instantly. Soul is standing before her, hands in pockets, and she briefly remembers that he's a musician from what Kid and Black Star told her. He might be her ticket to getting an A in the class! He—!

_No! You're not supposed to know anything, remember? _She chides herself, heart falling to her ankles. There goes all hope for understanding the damn class. "Oh, sorry. What will you have?"

"Medium coffee."

"On it." Maka rings him up before pouring him a cup of scalding coffee, face strained from the work she just can't understand. She hands him his coffee silently, going back to the worksheet that's causing her grief. She sits there for a while, just staring at the sheet, oblivious to Soul, whose watching her stare at the paper with amusement because he can see the irritation, despair and hopelessness flash across her face every few seconds.

Suddenly, her head drops on the paper and a loud groan is heard. "I-I-I give up." She chokes, wanting to curl into a small ball and have a fit much like her father does whenever she ignores him. Maka has never had a class she did not understand and it makes her feel useless, totally _worthless, _that she does not understand _this _class at all. Where was Blair when she needed her the most, Maka mourns. "I'm never gonna' get this..."

"You're working on distinguishing the voice from the stem, right?"

"Yeah..." Maka pauses. She jerks up, scandalized he has seen her at her lowest. "Wh-what're you still doing here?"

Soul shrugs. "Bored." His eyes brief the page. "You have to remember the soprano and alto are written on the top staff and the tenor and bass on the bottom."

Maka blinks slowly. "... What?"

"Did you pay _any _attention in your class?"

Maka whimpers. "No, because he's torturing me with _this_!" She shoves a piano score in his face. "I have to understand it!"

"...This is a pretty average score." Soul comments, raising a brow. "Nothing anyone can't understand."

"I—can't." Maka struggles. She sighs resignedly. "I can't understand music."

"It isn't _that _hard, you know." He dryly answers.

She shoots him a glare. "No, not like that. I can understand the basics, like writing it and reading it." Maka hesitates. He's a musician, right? Maybe he can help her! "But...I can't understand the emotions behind it. A song is a song to me, there isn't anything else to it. When my teacher asks me to _feel_ the emotions in a song, it sounds dumb to me because there isn't anything else there." Maka frowns. "Is there even _supposed_ to be?"

When she looks up at him for answers, he wears a look of mild surprise. However, it quickly melts into one of amusement. A small smirk crawls up on his face. "So, you're one of _them, _huh?"

"What the heck does that mean?" Maka scowls. It sounds like an insult. Her fingers itch for the weight of a book so she can smack him and her teacher to the next town. "He called me that, too!"

"It means..." Soul leans against the counter coolly. "You're one of those cold-logic people that can't value basic human emotions."

"I _can _value basic human emotions!" Maka defends herself. She deflates at his skeptical stare. "Just not how someone can apparently 'pour their soul' into a song." She rests her chin on her palm. "It seems to me they're just talented in the arrangement of notes. Nothing else sticks out to me other than that."

"If you can't understand emotions, you can't understand music or anything else, really." Soul throws her a dark grin that makes her stiff. "The faster you admit it, the faster you can move on with your life. You have to let go of any rational explanations you have for music.. because music isn't based on that. It's based on what comes out of the soul."

"Not this again!" Maka sighs, sharply. "What's so important about the soul? We can't even prove there _is_ a soul—!"

"Let it go." He's up in her face, so close she can clearly see the rings of scarlet and ebony that make up his iris. Her heart grows taut at his next words: "Cold logic will not help you understand music. By feeling the music, he means understand what the musician is trying to convey and taking it to the heart."

Maka, instead of baking down, merely stares back defiantly. "Alright, so let's say music _is _composed of more than just a bunch if words and notes... and?" His brows shoot up. Maka continues, coldly: "I don't see the point in empathizing with a bunch of sounds. It's just sound. You'll forget about it eventually."

Soul curiously gazes at her, the hardness he can see in her eyes; the fire that alludes the scars. He does not know what has happened to her, what tribulations she has gone through in life, but he tell she's got some issues to deal with. _Maybe_, he thinks to himself, she might serve as a good distraction from the score he's working night and day on to perfect.

"It's scientifically proven that the human brain can memorize over a thousand melodies, even if they haven't heard it again in years." Soul deadpans. She glowers at him. He isn't helping at all. "But you really don't get it, huh? You're seeing all the shallow reasons. Do you understand poetry?"

Maka arches a brow. "I own various books, but I'm not a big fan of it anymore."

"Writing?"

Maka smiles a little. "If you mean writing as in novels, then yes."

"You read?"

"Mmhmm!" Maka's smile widens. "I love reading!"

_Jackpot_. "Why."

Maka's smile falters. He knows he caught her. "Why? What do you mean why?"

Soul casually shrugs. He rests his elbows on the counter, slouching as he clarifies: "I mean, why? Why do you love to read?"

"Because...well," Maka splutters. "Because I love to learn, obviously!"

"You read novels, right? Not just dictionaries and crap like that?"

"It's _not_ crap, you jerk, but yes I do." She glares warningly as he rolls his eyes.

"Then, tell me why you love to read novels so much."

"Because—they tell of life experiences and, um..." She falters, lowering her eyes. It's awkward, as she feels a surge of tangled emotions rise up within her. There are many reasons why she loves to read and most of them are embarrassing to say. Like pretending to be a fictional character because her own life sucks. How lame was that? "They teach lessons and...um..."

An easy grin crosses his face. "You can't tell me, can you? Well, at least you _do _have a heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maka snaps, thrown in a loop by his words.

"You like reading but you can't tell me why. You know it's not because of those superficial reasons, you've related to the piece of literature and applied it to your life. You just don't trust me enough to tell me that." He shrugs, not really caring. The word _trust_ is dead to her at this point in life, she recalls. "But there's a deeper reason. When you figure it out, come talk to me and I'll help you out with your homework."

He leaves, just like that; document under arm, coffee in his hand, disappearing into the slanted shadows of the night as she stares after him.

He made sense but that's the least of her problems right now.

No one has _ever_ been able to silence her so easily, it almost infuriates her. Is she losing her touch? But something about him only makes her feel hollow because she knows he isn't trying to corner her, but make her gain an understanding of the abstract concept of music. And she knows that, by attacking her deepest love, she will eventually grasp an understanding. He knows she isn't totally heartless but just cynical and jaded. He doesn't know _why_ but it wouldn't take long to find out – he sounds very sharp despite his slacker appearance.

And she's scared because he's hitting too close to home and trusting him, _a guy_, a cheating, lying _guy, _ with her broken childhood is daunting.

Books are a way of release for her; an escape from reality. The fact that she lives alone, has been for the past few years, makes silence unbearable so books are the noise in her life. She hates it because it's the most horrible feeling in the world, the loneliness she means. The fact that her mother, her precious mama, had divorced her father nearly two years ago and hasn't made but one appearance in her life, makes things a lot more gloomier.

The fact that her papa has probably forgotten all about her because he'd rather hang out at cabarets than figure out what his supposedly 'precious baby girl' is up to ( if the money automatically deducted from his paycheck is keeping her alive; if she isn't being abused, or maybe in danger, because her neighborhood is a sinister place to live in) just makes the pain of having no one all the worse.

She likes to empathize with books.

She likes to pretend she's some heroine in a novel.

She likes to lose herself in the words, the story, and believe she can overcome anything with the right dose of courage and love and all those _stupid _emotions that make humans, _human_. But reality isn't like that – you need more than just courage to get by. You need knowledge, skill_, money. _Life isn't a bunch of pretty sounds wrapped into one beautiful song, it's a screeching violin that harmonizes with the scratch of nails against a chalkboard.

Suddenly, she understands why so many people cherish music.

It's just like her and her books.

She wonders why she never saw it before.

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><p><strong>AN: **Because I'm infamous for my one-shots...

No, this is _not_ a one-shot. This is a true-to-its-definition story, not just a snapshot in time. Yay! I'm growing up lol

Truth be told, I haven't finished this story. I've got a bunch of chapters already edited and ready for posting, but I've still got a few more to go before I can brand a complete sign to this. Thus, updates will be weekly at most. School will also be consuming more of my time, mainly because after being trained to work on a 8 period schedule and suddenly switching to a 6 period did not bode well with me...

But procrastination is my best friend, so you _will _get updates. Even if I have to put off that awfully boring report for Government, which I am currently doing, actually :P

AND HAPPY (early...) BIRTHDAY LACROW! BE HAPPY, GODDAMMIT! xD

_Scarlett._


	2. Chapter 2

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

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><p><strong>.02<strong>_**  
><strong>__three, four, shut the door_

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><p>Maka is unusually nervous the next time she walks into the cafe. She knows Soul will not be there until later that evening but the stifled excitement and dread refuse to settle as she takes her post behind the cash register. At least she knows that after today, she would have completed most of the homework and <em>not<em> face her teachers wryly amused face when she admits she didn't do it because she had trouble with it.

Kid is cleaning tables again and Black Star is jamming out to a rock song on his MP3, not at all embarrassed by his cheesy moves as a few girls sitting in the back watch with giggling smiles.

"Good evening, Maka." Kid absently greets, furrowing his brows when a stubborn stain won't submit to the perfectly squared rag in his hand.

"Hi, Kid." Maka smiles wearily, something which makes the boy pause for a second before continuing his precise scrubs. "Um... Kid?"

"Yes?"

"About..." Maka purses her lips. "Nevermind."

Kid frowns but nods, going back to his task silently.

Maka wants to ask him about Soul. He has not been off her mind since yesterday and it's annoying her. It's mostly his words, which bounce off the plains of her head like dice, but she can't hide the fact that it's _him_ in general. His ruby eyes, sharp canines, and cool disposition. It's all so _different _to her; like a new puzzle. The draw she has to him has always been a mystery she'd rather just let unfold by itself so she resigns herself to taking orders and pouring coffee until he comes and whisks her away into a state of unease.

She tells herself it's because of the music worksheets.

She only partially believes that.

"YO! MAKA!" Black Star slides to a stop in front of her, grinning out something that makes her brows raise: "Can you take my shift today again?"

"Why can't you be here _this_ time? You know that if the manager catches you you'll get fired..." She doesn't mind – not at all, it actually makes staying behind _a whole lot more_ easier – but she's still curious. Tsubaki didn't seem like the clingy type but who knew?

"I know, I know!" He bats away her concerns. "But I _really_ wanna' hang out with Tsubaki tonight!"

_Correction: Black Star's the clingy one. _Maka dryly thinks to herself. "Whatever, just try not to make this a habit, okay?"

"Yeah!" He shoots her a wide grin. "Thanks, Maka, I owe you one!"

"You owe me years worth of stuff, Black Star! Oh, and tell her I said hi for me!" Maka shouts after him, watching him mock-salute before going back to taking orders with a new bounce in his step. She always wondered to herself who would be the unlucky girl to date the hyperactive guy and she's sheepish to say she always knew Tsubaki would be the one.

That girl had the patience of a saint and that was saying something. Maka was a little impatient herself, especially when it came to doing things that normally took a few minutes. Dawdling and wasting time were things Maka hated; slacking off was unacceptable and being a disappointment in general was frowned upon in her book. It was likely why she was adamant on asking Soul for help today. She would be damned if she failed the class when she had a perfectly good teacher just a few steps away!

"Are you sure that's wise, Maka?"

Maka looks at Kid, who hasn't looked up from the table. He's kneeling, eyes level with the table top but not concentrating on the shine at all.

"What do you mean, Kid? This is the most excited I've seen Black Star about someone since himself!" Maka jokes.

"The cafe closes quite late." Kid continues, finally tilting his head to look at her from the corner of his eye. "As I recall, your neighborhood is not the safest at night, or any time, actually."

"It's fine, Kid, I can take care of myself."

"You might be strong but a grown man can still outmatch you." Kid states logically, not a hint of disdain in his tone. "It's dangerous to be out after six and you know it. There's a lot of gang activity around your home..."

"Yes, I know, but I can take care of myself!" Maka smiles in what she hopes is assurance. "I've lived there for nearly two years now, remember? Nothing's happened to me so far! And I went home yesterday without any incident!"

"Yes, but that was only one night out of many." He says, wisely.

Maka sighs. "I'll be _fine_, Kid."

He looks dubious. "Maka, whether you like it or not, your safety pertains to me especially. Might I recall your father telling me to watch over you before you moved out...?"

Maka cringes. "Don't remind me.._._"

Kid had, sadly, been there when she returned to her father's home to pick up a few things after her move. He had been her first friend, followed by Liz and Patty, and she had pleaded he accompany her since she didn't think she'd be able to contain her homicidal urges if she went alone.

"_You better watch over my precious Maka!" _Her father had snarled, after threatening to butcher him with a machete if he tried anything on her.

Needless to say, despite the threats and sneers and glowers from her dad, Kid was perfectly composed and merely nodded in agreement, offering the few words _"I shall" _before Maka dragged Kid away, ignoring his suddenly girly wails of: _"NOO! DRAG ME WITH MY OTHER HAND AS WELL! IT'S NOT SYMMETRICAL OTHERWISE!"_

Honestly, she still didn't understand how she met such weird people.

The rest of her shift goes on without fault, the normal influx of people keeping her distracted enough from the music homework she's yet to finish. She's glad her teacher had given her at least two weeks to complete the package. He must really think she needed guidance if he gave her that long of an extension after she admitted she had trouble with it, and it only encourages her to ask for his help!

When Soul finally walks through the door, the same old folder under his arm, he doesn't move even when she looks up and greets him with one of her smiles.

He just stares at her expectantly.

The smile slips into a purse and she sighs sharply, nodding her head begrudgingly.

When she looks back, he's already walking to a table to start on his own work.

"What was that about?"

Maka starts, jerking to Kid, who straightens the black overcoat he had slipped on silently. She hadn't even noticed him standing there, observing the interaction with scrutiny. His strangely colored amber eyes pierce through her, protectiveness glowing within them as they shift toward the table Soul is located at suspiciously.

"What do you mean?"

"That. What happened just now."

"Oh, it's, uh, nothing!" She winces. That was a terrible lie...

"It looked like _something_ from my point of view."

"Aren't you supposed to be going somewhere right now?" Maka grumbles, not wanting to tell him that she was more-or-less on a friend-basis with Soul. For some reason, she wants to keep these secret smiles and glances to herself and no one else. She hopes its the same for _him _but she may just be letting her imagination get the best of her_. _"I thought you were supposed to take Liz and Patty out. It's the eighth, you know..."

Kid, as of a few weeks ago, had begun dating both Liz _and_ Patty. Now, if it were any other person, Maka would be disgusted and furious. But Kid was a special case: his severe OCD inhibited the most normal of relationships and Liz and Patty really didn't mind sharing the guy – in fact, those twins shared mostly everything. To her surprise and his glee, they had been thrilled when Kid asked _both _of them out at the same time.

Weird, but heartwarming all the same.

Maka guessed exceptions could be made although it still bothered her that he was able go out with two girls at the same time. Didn't couples usually... Maka stopped that train of thought dead – this was _so _not the time to be thinking about those things! Especially since she was going to be sitting herself down for a few hours before Soul!

Kid smiles faintly. "Want to get rid of me quickly, do you?" He leans against the counter, dropping his voice. "Be especially careful on your way home today. There have been news alerts all day that a murderer is on the loose around your neighborhood."

Maka nods. "I heard about that, too. I'll take the long way today!" The long way was quite _long _but it was well-lit and always had a few people walking through it at all hours of the night. The short way was dark and lonely but _short –_ as in, instead of half an hour, it took less than ten minutes to arrive at her apartment. However, taking shortcuts had always been a dangerous gamble in her neighborhood. Sometimes it was better to take the long walk than shorten it and have the tip of a knife pressed against your throat in the next second.

"Good." Kid glances at Soul and, after a seconds deliberation, walks over to him. Maka watches him apprehensively, sighing in relief when he only high-fives the guy with both hands, much to Soul's disgruntlement, and they begin to talk normally. Kid probably suspected something but Maka knows he wouldn't do something so forward unless he was _positive_ she had some sort of friendship with the snowy-haired pianist...

"Maka!" Liz's voice cuts through her thoughts cheerfully. "Long time no see! How've you been holding out, kid?"

"Maka! Maka!" Patty comes rushing after her sister, that same happy-go-lucky smile on her face as always. "Sissy tells me you've been sad, is that true?"

Maka laughs lightly at the younger sisters pouty lips. "Nope! I've been better than better! I've been great!" She lies.

Liz eyes her but, after a second, deems it the truth and grins out: "Oh, guess what? Kid's taking us out to one of those expensive restaurants today! I get to wear that cocktail dress I bought a few days ago! You'd love it if you saw it!" She excitedly tells her, gushing the details with flourish.

Patty hums to herself, shifting from foot to foot until Kid comes back from his talk with Soul, voice holding that tone of authority. And with good reason, too, since Kid happened to be son of the mayor of Death City: Lord Death himself. "Liz, Patty, we're leaving!"

"See ya' later, Maka!" Liz grins.

"Bye bye! Be happy, okay?" Patty beams.

"Maka, I'll see you tomorrow." Kid nods, his eyes conveying a warning that only makes her smile a bit. He looks a little more relaxed, too, and Maka assumes it's because Soul has that effect on people; even if he riled her up last night, she did feel rather calm and _cool_ around him...

"BYE MAKA GOTTA' GO!" Black Star streaks past her in a blur of blue, running out the door and out of sight in less time that it took to breathe.

Maka merely blinks. "Bye...?"

And then she's alone again.

The girl who always works the late shifts comes through the glass doors, giving her a pointed look of annoyance before she goes into the back to clock in for work and begin her usual late-evening routine.

A whistle distracts her and Maka turns her head to Soul, whose lazily waving her over. She hesitates only for a second before gathering up her things and ducking over to the table, the girl frowning at her but taking her spot behind the cash register silently. She drops her homework and books on the table, taking out the sheet from yesterday and sitting down across from him.

"I take it you're one-step closer to understanding music now?" Soul lazily asks, with a mocking glint in his eye.

Maka scowls. "Just explain this to me." At his arched brow, she mumbles: "_Please..._"

"Whatever, give it here." Soul takes the sheet from her and skims it quickly, knowing what to do almost instantly. "Alright. It's just separating the voice from the stem."

"What the heck does that mean?"

"Nothin' that'll help you in life, that's for sure. Here, just follow my lead..." And he delves into the strangely easy topics of music. Each instruction, each word, is strung together perfectly and she understands the homework quickly enough after a few minutes of hearing him lecture.

But she still struggles when he leaves her alone.

"Jeez, you're doing it all wrong. Here..." He stands and walks over to her side with a sigh, sitting beside her.

Maka stiffens.

He's too close.

"See this?" Soul points to one of the figures with the pencil, tapping it a few times. "All you have to remember..." and she's entranced by the way his fingers, long and pale, move across the page as he reexplains the mechanics of tenors and altos.

He has pianist fingers, she decides.

She doesn't know if finger lengths have anything to do with playing a piano but she still thinks he's perfectly suited for it. He really _is_ a musician, when it comes down to it. The way he speaks, how he knows all of this like he was born with the knowledge, and how little trickles of enthusiasm leaked into his words whenever he spoke about music, just show her that he's passionate about slapping together a bunch of sounds and creating a masterpiece.

She wonders if she could ever _really_ let herself understand the abstract topic...

"Get it now?"

"What?"

Soul hangs his head. "Why did I know you were gonna' say that?"

Maka laughs sheepishly. She turns to him, setting her face in determination. "I'm sorry! I got distracted. I promise it won't happen again!"

"...Do I have to repeat everything I just said?"

"Unless you want me to fail, yes."

"Can't you just take the fai—!"

"NO!"

"Fine, sheesh. You better pay attention this time – I'm not repeating it a _fourth_ time!" Soul grumbles but explains the homework to her for the fourth time. She doesn't like how she likes the way he's sitting so close to her with his pencil out like a conductors stick and so much knowledge flowing out of his lips, but she has to bare it for now. She pays rapt attention but once more finds herself disliking how she's so eager to listen to him; the sound of his drawling voice that makes him sound like he's sleepy sometimes.

Maka doesn't have many friends.

She speaks to Liz, Patty, Tsubaki and Kim but she wouldn't feel comfortable with either if left alone with them at, say, the mall. She's hardly tried bonding with them, for her own reasons, but Tsubaki has been able to break down a few walls and grow closer to her because of her kind nature. Even still, Maka can't seem to let herself go to her. The last she needs is to involve more people in her issues - _one _person was enough - as it's miserably clear her mama won't be coming back for a long, _long_ time and her papa is just too much of a womanizing pervert to find time in his hectic work schedule to seek her out. Maybe to give her the paternal love she deserves but hasn't got? There's only one person whose actually managed to crack her shell; one single person who has earned her unfailing trust... and she's the probably the _worst_ person to trust given the things that girl did on a daily basis. But she was her only true friend and Maka accepted her for all her faults and imperfections.

She goes by Blair, and she worked at the several cabaret's her father frequented.

The irony isn't lost to her.

"...do problems five through seven and then I'll look over them to see if they're right." Soul ends his lecture, raising his eyes to her.

"Okay." Maka mumbles, taking the sheet from him. She scoots over, putting a good foot of space between them, and Soul notices how calculated each movement is; how uptight she is. He knows it's not because she's nervous, either.

"Maka."

Maka starts. He's never spoken her name before; it makes something strange twist in her gut.

"Y-yeah?"

He allows a small smile, something that improves his otherwise daunting appearance significantly. Her face feels hot. She mildly hates it. "Chill out. Everyone has something they aren't good at. No ones perfect."

"I _know_ that!" Maka huffs defensively, going back to her work and pointedly ignoring him.

Secretly, Maka is grateful he told her that. Sometimes, she just wants to hear what she already knows, and it's comforting when it's actually said because it makes her believe her thoughts a little more. It's reassuring. She isn't the strongest person even though many would argue otherwise. She's probably more fragile than most, and she knows this with clarity. She's too loyal sometimes; too much of a good friend.

People tend to abuse good friends.

"You got number six wrong." Soul says after she finishes a few minutes later. "You mixed up the bass with the alto again."

"Stupid bass..." Maka mumbles.

Soul cracks a grin. "Here, I'll show you a neat trick you can use to remember them." He's in her personal space again, shoulders touching briefly as he begins to divulge his secret to her. She can see his lashes, pale white like his hair, as those gem eyes flicker from her to the paper frequently as he explains. She looks down at the paper, but his words run through her as she thinks. She always wondered if his hair was dyed but now she knows it isn't. She can see no black roots or anything. He's definitely not albino, too, since his skin is a nice tan. It's weird and once again she finds herself wondering why she meets such weird people...

"Hey!" An annoyed voice cuts off whatever Maka was going to say. "We're closing in an hour!"

Maka gasps and looks at the clock, seeing that, yes, it was nearing nine o'clock. "It's already time to go?" She sounds disappointed and she pretends that it's because she still hasn't finished her homework packet.

"Miss me already?" Soul teases with a smug grin, obviously catching the disappointment in her tone. He's awfully perceptive and Maka makes a quick mental note to be wary around him from now on. "Never took you as the clingy—OUCH!"

"I call that my Maka-Chop." Maka huffs, holding a textbook in her palm coolly.

"The hell—you want to give me a concussion or something?" Soul winces as he touches the tender spot on his skull. Here he thought he knew all about pain from Black Star's punches. "That hurt, dammit!"

"That was the whole point!"

"This is _so_ not cool..." He groans.

She throws a quick glance to the cash register, which has long since been abandoned for her own devices. The girl who has the night shift sits on the other side of the room, texting on her phone with a heavy frown on her face. She looks up once, glares, before looking back down and texting furiously. Maka has a feeling she's being talked down and has half a mind to glare right back when the girl looks up again.

"Oi!" Soul's snap brings her back to the task at hand. "You gonna' finish your homework or not? I have things I have to do, too, y'know!"

Maka suddenly feels guilty. "Oh! Right!" She flickers her eyes to the other side of the table, the seat which holds the folder full of music sheets. "I'm sorry! I must be disturbing you from your work!" Maka starts to stand, intent on finishing her work at the comfort of the cash register, when his lazy voice stops her yet again.

"You're not bothering me, your lack of attention is." He drawls. "How many times do I have to repeat what I say before you get it? I thought you were smart or something. Didn't you rank number one in Shibusen last year?"

Maka starts, unsettled that he knew what school she attended. "How do you know that?" She narrows her eyes, and he smirks like he's read her thoughts.

"I go to Shibusen, too." He replies, watching her shoulders relax but her emerald eyes light up with curiosity. "Your name is practically plastered all over the goddamn bulletin board when the final exam results go up."

Her face warms a pale pink, knowing it's true although she gets nothing but rolls of eyes and raised brows whenever they happen to match her face with her name. "How come I've never seen you before?"

Soul shrugs. "We don't have any classes together, maybe?"

She frowns. That's strange, usually people of the same age got grouped into the same classes although she's the exception since she takes senior classes due to her skipping a grade. She has to have him for at least _one _class — "Are you younger than me?" That's the only explanation, right? She's taking Senior classes_..._

"Maybe. How old are you?"

"Sixteen..."

His smirk grows larger at her wide, curious, eyes. She is a curious creature, he decides, someone who cannot take ignorance. It's only a treat that she happens to have a short fuse as well; a crackle in her eyes that makes them burn like the tip of the cigarettes his disdainful older brother always shoves in his face, matched with that mocking grin of his that is so alike to his own it pisses him off. "Nope. I'm seventeen."

"Huh? Then how come I haven't seen you around! I'm taking Senior classes!" Maka complains.

"Maybe we don't have the same classes, genius?" Soul remarks.

Maka scowls but relents.

The rest of the few minutes together is spent silent, Maka debating why she feels so conflicted that he was older than her while Soul tries to write the bloody music sheet whose deadline is nearing too close for comfort. The strained silence becomes comfortable when she brightly says that she finished the first worksheet and he deadpans that she still has six more to go.

"_Shut up_, Soul!"

"Heh, whatever."

She completes one more worksheet in the elapsed time and he only manages to write one more note before shutting the folder and calling it a night.

"We're closing in ten!" The annoyed girl shouts at them just as they begin to gather their things.

Maka thinks she heard the girl mutter something else, something obviously directed at _her, _but she doesn't catch it so she decides it's not worth getting angry at. There is no reason to be angry at her, unless she felt surly that she wasn't at her post. But hardly anyone comes into the cafe during the late evening. She packs her bags, securing her backpack on her shoulders just as Soul slides out of the booth, standing as if to wait for her.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow!" Maka smiles, previous awkwardness gone. She likes how she feels comfortable around him but at the same time it makes her uneasy. Being comfortable is only the first step to becoming his friend and, thus, an even _closer_ friend. She knows being so close to a person isn't wise, not for someone with luck like hers.

"How far do you live from here?" Soul asks out of the blue.

"I don't live very far – just a couple of blocks, down by Needle Avenue..."

"He wasn't kidding..." Soul mutters to himself and Maka raises a brow.

"What are you mumbling about this time?" Maka asks impatiently, knowing the longer she took hearing him babble, the later it would get and the more dangerous the streets would become. She doesn't feel very concerned about encountering loose criminals but that doesn't mean she's foolish enough not to fear the darkness of the streets or the things that lurk in them.

"How about I give you a ride?" He asks casually but she notices he doesn't look at her when he does: he looks a little awkward, even though his voice is the epitome of cool and collected. "It's late and it's too dangerous for a girl to be walking home all by herself. It'd be uncool to let you go like that."

"I can take care of myself. I've walked home late at night before." Maka frowns. "Besides, it's only a few blocks away—!"

"It only takes a few seconds to incapacitate a girl." He tells her, half-grinning at her glower. "Of course, you're right, who the hell would want to attack some flat-chested, short, girl—!

"MAKA CHOP!"

"DAMN IT!" Soul swears, holding his busted skull with both hands. It takes all that's in him not to jump from foot to foot like a little girl. "Would you _quit_ doing that? Shit!"

"Stop calling me flat-chested!"

"No promises—_fine! _Fine!" Soul holds a hand up in peace, eying the book in her hand warily. Inwardly, he finishes his sentence with a smart _no promises, flatty,_ but outwardly he complies with her demands – if only for the sake of his precious brain, which he needs if he wishes to finish his composition by December. "C'mon, let's go already."

Maka doesn't like the fact that he'll know where she lives but, judging by his reaction when she told him the street, she thinks that he probably already knows all the nasty rumors that go along with 198 Needle Avenue – the single place in Death City that you can get all your narcotics, all your weaponry, all your whores, hire your hit men, find a gang willing to take in a few strays, and more. It's a bad neighborhood but the rent is cheap, very cheap, and Maka finds she doesn't mind the dangerous atmosphere so long as she lays low and doesn't call much attention to herself. Which is easy for her, because, honestly, aside from school and work, all she does is sit around at home reading or watching TV.

"Maka?"

She looks at him and says, "Coming!", and jogs after him after she hangs her apron behind the counter and makes sure all the money is accounted for, the girl who works the late shift glaring holes at her back as she closes up.

"So, where's your car?" Maka asks, the cold night air blowing against her exposed arms. She rubs them in an attempt to warm herself.

"Car?" Soul looks over her shoulder, his grin dark and his eyes darker. She can't help but to feel mesmerized by how the moonlight hits him at a slant, shadowing parts of his face and lightening others. He looks older, with a smoldering quality that heightens with every shifting shadow, and it takes everything in her not to pause and stare like some dumb, love-struck, girl. "Whoever said anything about a car?"

Maka's eyes land on a motorcycle, parked in a single space and gleaming under the moons volatile light. Her stomach drops to her ankles at the sight of the death machine. "Oh, no." She shakes her head. "No way are you getting me on that thing! No, thanks!"

Soul rolls his eyes. "Chill out, it's not that dangerous if you know how to drive it."

"Nope!" Maka crosses her arms over her chest resolutely. "You're going to have to drag me on it! I refuse to ride—HEY—!" Maka almost whimpers when Soul shoves her to the bike, muttering something about scardy cats and sleep, but she refuses to get on.

"You know, I've got absolutely no problem lifting your leg up for you." Soul threatens, emptily. He knows he wouldn't be able to touch her so brashly, given the manners that had been shoved into his brain when he was younger, but he still hopes she'd believe him.

"Just try." She menacingly replies.

Soul holds her glare for a second before sighing. "Look, can you just get on so we can leave already? It's late, I'm tired, and the darker it gets, the more likely I am to get _shot_ after I drop you off." He means it as a joke but Maka takes it seriously. It slightly unnerves him, how much she believes that, and he makes a mental note to watch out for suspicious activity after he drops her off.

She reluctantly looks at the motorcycle and swings a leg over to settle herself in the back. Soul is quick to take his seat in-front of her before she chickens out.

"Um, do you have a helmet?"

"Cool guys like me don't need helmets." He cockily says, igniting the engine.

The roar of the bike makes her uneasy. Maybe she should just walk? It isn't worth wrecking just because it was late—wait, no _helmet_? "How can you _not_ have a helmet! You dumbass, that's the one thing that can save your life if you wreck!" She smacks him on the head, ignoring his grunt. "The next time you come you better have a helmet on you or so help me—!"

"You ready?"

"E-eh?" Maka stutters, losing her fire. "Wait, where do I hold on?"

"There's some grips on the side." Soul motions with his head, revving the bike. His next words are teasing: "Or you can always hold onto me."

"But—!"

She squeaks when the bike lunges forward and clutches him for dear life, groaning in embarrassment when she hears his deep laughter. But soon they're leaving the small, comfy, cafe and heading to her house after a few directions from her; the moonlight offering just enough light to maneuver down the snaking roads of Death City.

Despite the fact that she's clinging onto him as they near her apartment, she's firm on keeping the door to her soul shut from him no matter what.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I noticed this story gets really dramatic in the next few chapters. Surprisingly, it's not between Soul and Maka. That's just not my _style_ lol

Maka's issues are overrated, I know.

But that won't stop me from writing them! Teehee! 8D Just wait until we reach Soul's issues, you'll be smacking your head on your keyboard in no time XD

_Scarlett._


	3. Chapter 3

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.03<br>**_five, six, pick up sticks_

* * *

><p>She sits down in her usual seat, taking out her usual school supplies, looking up to her usual teacher with the usual pen hanging lazily off his lips as he sits in his usual swivel chair, observing his usual batch students with the usual cold, analytical, glare in his eyes.<p>

Nothing has seemingly changed yet at the same time it has.

It's been nearly two weeks since she had begun to speak to Soul and she can firmly say her resolve is getting weaker with each passing day. It's so _hard _for her not to like the guy, laziness and untactful words and all, but she still tries to keep her falling apart resolve in tact.

She has to put up a fight before she falls, right?

"Alright class, take out your homework from last night and pass it down to the front." Professor Franken Stein drawls, watching half the class shift uncomfortably. He doesn't need to ask to know that hardly anyone completed the assigned work but he doesn't really care. He'll just make the work worth a ridiculous amount of points and watch the irresponsible students mourn their grade when the report card came in the mail...

He takes particular pleasure in watching his students bemoan their fate to no doubt repeat Physics class.

He stands, cracking his neck, before he walks to the whiteboard. He is about to write down the warm up when a familiar, all too _familiar, _voice nearly makes the tip of his marker smash inward. That would have been bad because white board markers were expensive, Stein mulls for a second.

"Oh, _Frank_!" A chipper voice breaks through the monotony. "Frank! Guess _who?_" The door is thrown open to reveal a happy blonde, a strangely designed eye patch over her right eye as she pauses by the door frame. She blinks once when she notices the full-house. "Oh, um, is this a bad time?"

"Marie?" Stein says, surprised by her unexpected arrival. He recovers quickly. "How have you been?" He smirks, taunting. "Still searching for your soul mate?"

Marie shoots him a glare. "_No!_" But Stein knows she's lying by the way her face reddens and her lip juts out in a pout. "I just dropped by to say hi! I haven't seen you since college! When I heard you worked here, I couldn't help myself!" Marie smiles at him, glancing at the class that watches them curiously. "However, I didn't think you'd have class so early. Last I remember, you were never a morning person."

"I'm not." Stein bluntly states. "That's why I take out my frustrations in this period."

"Oi! What the hell, you bastard!" Black Star, who had been texting something on his phone the entire time, looks up abruptly. "I _knew_ you were up to something! That's it! I'm never doing homework ever again!"

"Black Star, you _never _do the homework."

"Ha!" Black Star sticks his nose in the air haughtily. "Someone who'll surpass the gods doesn't _need _to do homework. I've got people who do it _for_ me!"

"Oh, really?" Stein asks, amused by the boys claims. "And just who, pray tell, might that be?"

Marie enters the room to stand beside Stein. Maka notices they stand rather close, the woman not at all disturbed by the rather psychotic doctor. Marie smiles even wider when he shifts and his elbow bumps her lower arm, a light hue of pink decorating her full cheeks.

Black Star pauses to think about the question. He grins and turns to Maka, pointing a finger: "_She_—!"

"Don't you _dare_, Black Star!" Maka growls threateningly, as several pairs of eyes flash to her. "Like I'd do your homework for you! How would you learn if I did?"

"Gods learn on their _own_ free time!"

Maka shakes her head at the boy's flawed logic. It isn't even worth fighting with him about it when he's got his head shoved so far up his ass...

"You have such a lively class!" Marie giggles excitedly. She tugs on his stitched up white coat like a little girl, adding: "Don't be so hard on them! They're all so adorable!"

Stein's the most alive she's ever seen him, to Maka's curiosity. At least he _looks_ like he's smiling and not as if someone he hated had just risen back from the dead. "Marie, you think _all _children are adorable."

Her cheeks puff out. "_Well_—!"

"Hey! I'm not a kid! I'm a god, dammit, a _god_!"

"Of course you are, honey." Marie says, airily.

The faintest of smiles ghosts Stein's face.

His eyes twitches. "What the hell, you damn hag—!"

"Black Star!" Maka hisses, pulling the boy down by the ear before he starts something nasty. He sits a row behind her and usually she mourns the seating chart but, in those moments, she's only too glad she's so close._ Someone_ needed to control him! "Shut up! You're causing a scene!"

Black Star's grin grows wider, if that's possible. "GOOD! 'CAUSE I'M THE STAR—!" He chokes off, almost foaming at the mouth from the hit as Maka places her book back in front of her calmly. A single Maka-chop was usually able to subdue him for an hour or so...

Marie decides to stay to listen to Stein's lecture after all, chiding the antisocial doctor various times when he ignored the confused looks on his students' faces when he explained laws and equations without fault. As it turns out, Marie is good influence on Stein – at least the lectures become more understandable with the woman's quick snaps and glares whenever Stein steered off topic or was being a plain bastard and using the hardest words possible.

"Bye, bye, class! Remember to do questions 1 through 12 on page 132 in your textbook by tomorrow!" She reminds them all warmly, waving kindly at each and every one of them before turning back to Stein. Maka manages to catch the woman throwing herself at him before leaning back and punching him for something he no doubt said in that insufferable drawl of his before the door closes.

Maka thinks it's a little creepy but cute. After all, dating Stein was like dating a mental escapee...

Black Star, of course, runs ahead of her like a maniac, yelling at the top of his lungs about food and Tsubaki before disappearing from her sight before she could even start her walk down the familiar corridors. Despite the fact that they're friends, Maka doesn't hang out with Black Star; or the rest for the matter. He hung out with Tsubaki a lot and their own group of friends, usually consisting of Kid and Liz and Patty and a few others she can't remember. Once upon a time, she was apart of their group, but that time has long since ended since she decided they didn't really need her there; it wasn't like they actually _included _her in their conversations.

She didn't have much to say and, after several attempts at making her join in, they gave up and she usually just ended up silently observing them for the entirety of lunch. Maka just didn't feel comfortable with them, even if she was on good terms with everyone outside of school grounds.

For some reason, school always made her recluse.

She was the quiet bookworm in the class; the one who answered the questions no one else could and the one to always turn in the homework on time, always finishing her classwork with time to spare. The one who brought a different book to school every week and the one usually sneered at whenever she opened her mouth to correct them. The know-it-all who didn't really fit in with anyone but those of her own kind like Ox Ford – and somehow even _he _had his own faithful pact of friends...

She finally makes it to the library and she pushes the metal door open, revealing a peaceful atmosphere amongst shelves of books. She knows it's only empty today because everyone else is outside by the breezeway, since there's some special event taking place that involves games and dance offs. She sort of expects Black Star's boisterous voice to pierce through the quiet walls of the library any time now...

Opening a book, she barely manages to read two lines before a voice startles her.

"Why am I not surprised to find you cooped up in here when there's practically a party outside?" Soul's drawl jolts her, shocking her as seeing him on school grounds was strange. She knew he attended Shibusen High but, no matter how much she'd looked for him, she could never find him...

Funny he managed to find _her._

"Soul!" She yelps in surprise. "What are you doing in here? Sh-shouldn't you be out with the rest?"

"I should be asking _you_ that." Soul drawls, taking out a chair and sitting on it backwards. He rests his chin on the top of the backrest, asking: "Do you always spend your time here?"

"Um, yeah." Maka shifts in her chair. She suddenly regrets not going out to at least watch the events. She feels so lame just sitting there, purposefully excluding herself from the fun outside. "So, what _are _you doing here?"

"Looking for you, what else?" Soul grins lazily at her wide eyes. "Kid and the rest are out there watching Black Star embarrass himself. Thought you'd like to see that since it'll be on the five o'clock news tonight."

"There's a news crew out there?" Maka asks in wonder.

"Yeah. Cool, huh?" Soul grins. He stands up, shutting the book splayed before her.

"Hey, I was reading that!"

"C'mon, bookworm, before we miss the show!" Soul extends his hand to her, the other jammed in his black leather jacket. Somehow, the way his hand is extending toward her, like a safety rope to a drowning victim, is more comforting than intimidating and she doesn't have a single clue why.

He's a guy.

He's prone to cheat, betray, back-stab—

And be spontaneous, as he reaches for her hand when she doesn't and drags her out of the library without a second thought, her indignant screeches falling on deaf ears as they make their way to the breeze way. The air is cold against her skin but she composes herself enough to at least _walk _beside him, glaring at his smug smirk as they reach the makeshift stage that has an overly-enthusiastic announcer—whose mike just got jacked by Black Star, who screeches something about his glorious self to the swarm of teenagers gathered around.

Maka laughs a little when she see's the news-crew immediately lock on him, Black Star eating up the attention with a humongous grin on his face. She bets all of his hopes and dreams just came true in those few seconds of fame.

"Man, he's never gonna' shut up about this once they pass this segment on the news." Soul groans beside her. "Remind me to turn off my phone before five..."

"He'll just look for you, y'know." Maka playfully tells him. "Or Kid! Poor Tsubaki..."

Soul sharply laughs. "She's gotta' be crazy to want to go out with _that_ egomaniac."

"Well, you know what they say," Maka begins, not really conscious of her words: "Love is weird."

He shifts his eyes to her, intoning mockingly: "I thought you didn't _believe_ in things like love and music."

Maka feels her face heat, which has her spluttering: "W-well, technically it _does _exist, we've simply given it a name and deluded its actual meaning! It's defined as an infatuation—!"

"Maka?"

"Yeah?"

His red eyes shift to her, twinkling with mirth at her splutters. "Don't ruin it."

Maka stares, words failing her for a moment, then sticks her nose in the air. "Humph!"

Soul just watches the laughing sun come out from under the covers of the clouds, the smile on his face going missed by Maka but not by Kid, who stands off by the side as his friend continues to preach his superiority to the camera crew while Liz and Patty howl in laughter; Tsubaki smiling at her boyfriend's guts to be so open about his laughable goal.

_That's strange. _Kid thinks to himself, watching Maka jump a little on her tip-toes to catch a glimpse of the stage, where Black Star has now begun to sing some horribly off-key song. Soul notices and glances around, elbowing her and nodding to the open space that gives better view to the stage.

She smiles gratefully at him.

The faintest hint of a smile lingers on his lips.

_Not only is Maka interested in participating at social activities but Soul looks like he's having a good time. _The boy pauses for a few seconds, deliberating these unusual chain of events. A knowing smile graces his face suddenly. _I see._

_How interesting, who would have thought two contrasting souls would be so compatible with one another?_

* * *

><p>"Ohh, <em>Maka!<em>" A familiar voice sings out, interrupting her final period of the day which isn't a class so much as it is a study period. Maka had already gathered enough of her credits to graduate with the seniors, which is her goal thus far, so most of her classes are either free periods or valueless.

She only takes her core classes with the seniors – which is why she found it strange she hadn't noticed Soul at all...

He's probably right: they just didn't share any classes together.

Maka slowly brings her book down and comes face-to-face with a grinning Liz and Patty. "Guess what? We're throwing a party for your manager later on today and _you're_ one of the lucky people who gets to plan it! Awesome, right?"

"Lemme' guess." Maka begins, knowing what's to come. "You guys forgot?"

Liz laughs uneasily. "What...gave it away?"

Maka sighs. "Your laugh." Before Liz could argue about it, Maka adds: "I'll head straight to the cafe after school. You guys have the supplies, right...?" She hopes they do. She won't be able to buy them and decorate the cafe with enough time left to change and do her math homework.

"Yep!" Patty beams. "Kid bought them yesterday! We just dunno' how to set everything up..." Patty sits back on her haunches, tapping a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "_Hmm_..."

"Don't hurt yourself there, little sis." Liz dryly tells her.

"No worries guys." Maka smiles, trying not to let her exhaustion show. The music homework is taking up a lot of time and advanced calculus was not an easy class, either. "I'll have it done within an hour, tops!"

"Kid and Black Star will probably be there so they'll help you with the decorations! Alright, I'll leave you to your books then, Maka! Thanks!" Liz smiles at her, giving her head a goodhearted ruffle that makes her smile a little bit. "See you later!"

"Bye bye, Maka!" Patty laughs happily, bouncing after her sister. "Don't be sad!" She adds, with warning, before beaming.

"Bye, Liz! Bye, Patty!" The door shuts and she's alone again. It isn't unusual for Liz or Patty to come barging into her space and invite her to hang out with them by the basketball courts or the mall or anywhere else they felt like going on any particular day. Of course, today it's a plead for her to decorate the cafe for the cool manager...

She usually doesn't attend such invitations. She's mostly doing this because she actually likes their lenient manager, Mira Nygus, and throwing a party for her is no trouble at all. But she mostly doesn't attend Liz's invitations because she has to use up that one hour to shower, change, gather her supplies for tomorrow or finish a few math problems left for homework and such. Either way, hanging out with them for an hour is usually a no-no for her but Liz still asks her to come, mostly because Kid persists, Maka knows.

Liz gave up trying to befriend her a long, long time ago...

There are low murmurs coming from the front of the library, from the long row of chairs and tables for students to sit in and chat if they like. They're mostly playing card games and sometimes they become rowdy and loud – especially if one loses or another wins. She guesses they're still trying to figure out who'll win this round since they aren't cheering as she gathers her things and walks off deeper into the library, finding a nice corner and sitting herself in it with a book propped on her lap.

Although she can still hear their boo's and cheers, it's significantly less loud in the isolated corner. Honestly, though, Maka scorns the librarian for not shutting those boys up – the library was a place for study, research, and reading! But Maka know's complaining will only make her even more unpopular than she already was. She comforts herself with the knowledge that at least _Ox Ford, _her academic rival slash bully, is lower in the social latter than she is with those ridiculous horns sticking out from either side of his head. Sometimes Maka finds herself wondering if the teenager honestly didn't realize that the horns were a major turn off and creep factor – especially for pretty girls like Kim, who just so happens to be Ox's none-too-enthusiastic crush.

Either way, Maka is happy where she is on the social latter: she doesn't need to go any higher nor, god forbid, any _lower_.

She can't focus on the book anymore.

Thoughts like these make her depressed.

She shuts her book with a soft sigh and stands up, picking her book bag off the floor and sticking her current novel in it. She slings it on her shoulder and makes her way out of the rowdy library, down the halls that are empty of students as they're all mingling by the lunch area; where _she's _supposed to be, too.

But she isn't.

Because she has stupid trust issues and she's been alone for such a long time and it's easier to be alone than to lean on someone who can very well disappear into thin air. There's too many risks. Risks she isn't willing to take with so many people, not because she _can't _but because when she grows attached, she _grows attached_, and the thought of that person leaving her is unbearable.

It has already happened to her twice: her mama and papa.

Then there's Blair, whose already gone past that point and become a very important figure in her life.

The only other person who has come close, but not close enough, is Kid but he's always too busy to reach that point, thankfully.

Soft jazz brings her out of her brooding.

Maka pauses in the middle of the hall, curiosity piqued by the smooth sounds that drift from down the hall. She follows the luring sound, taking a few corners until she reaches the last room down the hall: the music room. Shibusen's music room was usually open for the students before, during, and after school. But Maka wouldn't be caught dead in there before, during, or even after school unless she needed severe tutoring because she was on the verge of getting a C or worse.

And currently she's passing with a B.

She deliberates entering the room and checking whose the person cranking up the stereo but swats the idea away when she decides it's the music teacher himself. She doesn't think she'd be able to handle another long lecture about the mysteries of music: she has enough on her plate with the worksheets and her calculus class.

Maka turns away from the door, heading down the hall again.

Inside the music room, Soul Evans taps his foot to the beat of the song, his pencil also following in rhythm as he tries to work on the beginning of the composition he has to finish before the end of the year – which is in three months. His foot stops tapping and his pencil suddenly lunges toward the paper, notes flowing out of the tip in a burst of genius.

He stops, reviews what he wrote, makes a few corrections, and reviews it again.

He wonders how thinking about Maka helps him in the song writing process, as he continues working on his composition...


	4. Chapter 4

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.04<br>**_seven, eight, lay them straight_

* * *

><p>The roads are decrepit with shards of glass shattered on the floor; the sun reflecting off the pieces and producing an ironic rainbow to veil the dark and dank sidewalks. The buildings loom over her, silent and watchful, and she pulls her bag closer to her when she catches sight of a shady-looking man eying her from across the street, fingering something on the waistband of his pants.<p>

Her neighborhood isn't safe but the rent is cheap.

That's what has her living in such a bad area in the first place.

Despite the money her father sends her every month to pay for the rent and other things, she _still_ doesn't have enough to pay for the extra costs with what _another '_fee' she must pay lest she be pummeled to a bloody pulp. It's the reason she got a job at the cafe: it's what helped her scrape by every month.

Maka reaches her apartment complex safely and quickly jogs up the creaky stairs to her door number, wiggling the key inside the knob until she hears a _click-clack _and the door squeaks open. She throws her bag on the single couch in the living room, the floor a nice hardwood and the TV hanging on the wall rather lonesome. The walls are soft shades of white, with sunlight pouring upon them like gold, but the house still seems empty and uninhabited.

Maka walks to her room and digs through her drawers, pulling out her usual uniform: simple black pants with a white collard shirt. She adjusts her boots on her feet and soon she's walking back to her room and working through the homework she didn't manage to complete during her free period. She mourns the fact that she would have to shower very late that night or wait until the next morning if she was too tired.

She has a cycle she does every single day and today that cycle is unsettled and choppy. She has to rush through her calculus homework, cringing because she knew she got some of them wrong in her haste, but she has to run back to the cafe in order to fix the decorations and get in on the plan Kid and Black Star _obviously_ have if Kid already bought the necessary supplies.

It's sometimes a disadvantage to be so secluded since she misses out on important stuff like this.

But she deals.

Maka grabs her wallet from inside her book bag and shoves it into her pocket, heading out the door before anything else could distract her.

The thing about 198 Needle Avenue is that, even if she keeps a low profile, people always know you and there's no way to escape their bad intentions – especially when you happen to be a sixteen year old girl living by yourself in a one-bedroom apartment with a beautiful but infamous whore serving as your one and only caretaker.

"Hey, where're you goin' in such a hurry, _Maka_?" A hand strikes out from the bottom of the stairs, from the apartment door by the exit that is now open. It clutches her shoulder and a bolt of fear runs down her spine. "Didn't your mama teach you not to run down the stairs? You might fall and crack your head open." He laughs openly.

"Giriko..." Maka mumbles, reluctantly meeting the thugs darkly gleaming eyes. "Good evening."

"There we go." He slings an arm around her shoulders as if old friends. "That's better. So, tell me, Maka, where're you goin' in such a hurry, huh?"

"I have to go to a birthday party." Maka squirms under his arm. "I'm really late so if you could just let me go—!"

"Bah!" Giriko waves off. "Just tell 'em you're fashionably late." He leers at her plain outfit with a dissatisfied frown that quickly becomes sinister. "My girl probably has something that can fit you..." His tone is too suggestive.

"Giriko, I really have to go. What do you want?" She shoves his arm off her shoulders, knowing she would get no where with the man unless she directly asked him. "I already paid the rent..."

"No shit, that's why you're still here." Giriko scoffs, leaning against the door frame. "But you haven't paid me _my_ sum." He extends his hand expectantly. "Or did you forget...?"

Her brows furrow worriedly. "I gave it to Blair..."

"Blair's a bitch – she probably wasted it on fucking hair products and clothes." He leans in, hissing: "You give it to _me_, not her."

"I-I don't have any money with me right now..." Maka swallows nervously. This is getting dangerous. "I gave the money to Blair—!"

"Well, then, that just can't do." Giriko clucks his tongue. "Blair isn't here anymore, after all."

Maka feels her heart stop. "...What?"

"The sexy kitty." He grins. "Let's just say she won't be with us anymore. So you better rack up a few hundred by the end of this week or I won't be very happy with you."

There's a slang that the thugs in Death City use that's universal and to Maka that sentence spells out _Blair's dead _with terrible clarity.

Her body feels cold.

"B-Blair?" She stammers in disbelief. "No, Blair's okay! I just saw her two days ago – !"

Giriko shrugs, innocently. "Word on the street is she O.D.'d. I'm not really surprised - she was always a dumb bitch."

But that's impossible because while Blair might prostitute herself in cabaret and strip clubs, she's not foolish enough to take _anything_ a man gives her nor is she the type to drug herself up because it feels _good. _Blair might have annoyed her in the beginning – hell, she's technically the worst influence Maka could have – but the only reason she was out hanging in the dankest and most dangerous streets of Death City was because she had nothing else going for her.

She tried college but she dropped out during her second year due to stress. Blair had told her this personally and even showed her some photos of her short-lived college life. The two jobs she had to do plus working as a full-time student was too much for her to handle and she cracked under the pressure; reduced to a common street whore.

Blair didn't have a family.

She didn't have anyone to lean on but her fellow co-workers and friends...

Maka had grown attached to her: _she_ had been the reason why she was able to live such a calm life so far. She taught her the basics, looked over her, tried to cook meals for her which usually ended up in Blair taking her out to eat, and kept her company in the dark reaches of her apartment when her books couldn't...

Blair was practically like a _mother_ to her.

"You're lying."

A terrible grin cracks his face. "You sure about that?"

Maka doesn't manage to hear what else he says because she's running down the opposite direction of the cafe – all thoughts about decorating it and meeting up with Kid and Black Star flushing away in her panic. Her heart pounds in her ears and her breath is ragged as she blurs down the street, taking memorized corners and heading deeper into the mine-field that is Needle Avenue.

The cabaret is up ahead – Chupa Cabra – and she speeds up, banging her fist against the metal door wildly. She doesn't wait, even as a gruff voice calls out for her to calm the fuck down, and when he opens the door, he's surprised to see a small girl with watering emerald eyes standing there.

"Is Blair here?" She pants.

"Blair? You a friend of hers or something?"

"Yes! Is she here?"

"Nah, haven't seen her since last week—!"

Maka is running down the opposite away before he even finishes, ignoring his confused calls, and heading to the sister club of Chupa Cabra in hopes of finding her there.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I haven't seen her."

She's running to another strip club now.

"Blair? Don't know where she's at but—!"

She's bolting to a fancy gentleman's club a mile away from the previous location.

"Blair?" A pretty, busty, brunette repeats with a rather airy tone. "Oh, yeah, I _have_ seen her!"

Her despaired heart jump starts to life. "Where?" Maka pleads. "Where is she? Is she alright?"

"Fine as she can be!" The brunette giggles. "Although I did hear she got in a fight with Saw a couple of days ago!"

Giriko was commonly known as 'Chain Saw' or 'Saw' for short. Maka doesn't like remembering the reasons why he earned himself that crude nickname...

"Fight? What happened?" Maka asks, forcing her heart to calm.

"Well..." The brunette leans down, whispering: "_I _heard that Saw tried going down on her and Blair didn't want to so he got mean and tried hitting her." The brunette clucks her tongue. "Blair kicked his ass and left! But because of that she's been green lit and..."

Maka pales, tuning out the blonde as those two words sink in.

Blair had a hit on her head.

Blair was going to die if she didn't disappear.

Had she disappeared already? Maka wouldn't blame her for suddenly vanishing without a single word to her. It would be the smart thing to do, Maka thinks heavily, except Blair doesn't do the smart thing sometimes. Maka can't help but feel glad. At least she gets to see her off, she thinks with a heavy heart.

"...she's been in and out of town a lot since last week." The brunette continues, airily. "She was supposed to come by right now, actually! She should be here in a couple of minutes – she's gotta' pick up her pay since she couldn't come last week. Ya' know, with Saw all pissed off at her and shit." She twirls a piece of hair around her finger, glancing down at her observantly. "You're Maka, right?"

Maka snaps out of her thoughts at the sound of her name. "Oh! Yeah, that's me! Um, how did you know...?"

"Blair talks about you _all the time!_" The brunette gushes. "Aww, it's so true – you're so cute with your little pigtails!" Maka groans when she's shoved into the girls breasts by the force of her embrace, pink tinting her cheeks the tighter she squeezes. "You'd be an _instant_ hit with the guys if you ever decided to work—!"

Maka flinches back immediately. "No thanks."

The brunette smiles but relents. "Oh, alright. What time is it? She should be here by now!"

Maka checks her watch, brows furrowing when she see's it's about to be six in the evening and she hasn't even bothered to check in with Kid. She remembers she left her phone in her book bag and groans. She hopes Kid won't go on a panicked search for her – they would never find her, not so deep into Needle Avenue and in the last place they would _ever_ think about looking for her.

"Oh! She's here! Hey, Blair! _Blair!_" The brunette sings, skipping over to the voluptuous woman who has emerged from the front door, holding what seemed to be a bag full of clothing. Her black coat was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a sultry amount of cleavage, and Maka could see she wore form-fitting tights, showing off the shapely legs she worked so hard for every single day. "Guess who came down to see you? _Maka!_"

"Maka?" Blair blinks, flashing her bright golden eyes to where she stood, hunched and exhausted, sweat starting to dry on her person and heart calming significantly after being assured of Blair's existence. _"Maka!_" The woman gasps joyously, pushing past the brunette and running toward her; bringing her into a tight hug that Maka gratefully returns. "Oh, I haven't seen you so long! Nya, how have you been, hmm? You okay?"

Maka just squeezes tighter.

Blair's bright smile falters. "Maka..?"

"I thought you died." Maka muffles out and Blair feels all her good humor drain away to concern.

She looks over her shoulder, seeing her blonde friend stand curiously by the door. "Hey, Arisa, how about we talk later? I have something to take care of with my little girl!"

"Okay! Come 'round the back for your check, alright?" Arisa cheerfully replies, casting one last look at both of them before leaving them alone in the lobby area.

"Why did you think Blair died, Maka?" Blair asks, in third-person as her job-character asked her too. She'd grown used to it after a while and it didn't bother Maka anymore.

"Giriko..." Maka sniffs. Blair sighs.

"Giriko's an idiot."

"No, _you're_ the idiot!" Maka leans back, fixing her with a mean glare. "You're green lit? What are you even _doing_ here? Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be here right now!"

Blair winces and laughs weakly. "Nya, you heard about that, huh?" She giggles, patting her head. "Nothing gets past you, _Makaaa!_"

"Don't try to change the subject!" Maka barks, no-nonsense. "You're in grave danger right now, Blair! Can't you at least _act_ a little more worried?" She glares harder when Blair pouts.

"Blair will be fine!" Blair waves off. "But you, I'm not sure." She reaches to tuck a stray hair behind Maka's ears softly. "Blair wishes she could take you with her..." She sighs, face drawn in sadness.

"You can!" Maka suddenly says.

Blair perks up. "I can?"

"Yeah, you can! You—!" _Soul..._

It's difficult now. She's sixteen and technically under the care of her papa but Maka knows she can easily slip past him and go off with Blair - legally or not, Blair had connections that could dissolve the issue in a heartbeat. However, leaving wasn't an option right now. Leaving would mean...leaving Kid. Black Star and Tsubaki and Liz and Patty and—and—

_Soul..._

Her friends.

But why is she even thinking about this? That shouldn't matter to her – didn't she tell herself they didn't matter? They were just people who she happened to talk to, happened to share some interests with, and happened to get along with...

_But isn't that the definition of a friend? _

"You don't need to follow Blair if you don't want to." Blair smiles, gently. "You'll always have me, Maka."

"No, don't be ridiculous. I _want_ to go..."

"No, you really don't." Blair shakes her head softly. "You don't look like you want to leave."

"But..."

"Don't force yourself, Maka-nya!" Blair pokes the tip of her nose with a manicured finger. She smiles warmly. "I'll never forget Maka! Just as long as you don't forget me."

And Maka knows she means it by the way she switched tenses.

"I..."

_You can't leave me! _Her emerald eyes seem to scream as they stare at Blair; stinging with tears, watering the longer they both gaze at each other. Blair's eyes dim and she smiles tiredly. More tears spring to Maka's eyes. _I need you! I-I need someone! Blair, you can't – !_

"Come! Blair will take Maka out for dinner tonight, how does that sound? Neh, we'll go to that nice little Italian place we went to last time! Ooh, I love their pasta! And the chef's kinda' cute, too..." She rambles on and on while Maka stares, uncomprehendingly, unsure of what to do because she can't seem to abandon the bonds she had unconsciously formed.

It's a strange feeling, when she goes out to eat with Blair for the last time in who knows how long. The woman was loathed by her at first for her flighty and immoral ways yet now Maka finds herself falling apart at the thought of not seeing the woman's coquettish smile every morning before she left for school.

"How's Kid?" Blair asks an hour into their dinner. "You haven't told me about him in a long time. How are all your cute friends?" She chirps, resting her chin upon her laced fingers.

"He's fine. He's still obsessed with symmetry." Maka smiles a little at the thought. "I was actually supposed to go help decorate the cafe a couple of hours ago but I went out to find you instead when Giriko told me you... overdosed."

"Overdosed?" Blair huffed, offended. "And you actually believed Blair would _overdose? _She's too beautiful and smart to overdose!" She loftily says, with a flourish of violet hair.

"No!" Maka shook her head, sighing. "No, but he sounded so sure that you were dead..."

Blair purses her lips. She doesn't like seeing Maka so depressed. "So, decorations for what?"

"Our manager's birthday." Maka says. She groans. "I bet Kid is throwing a fit! I was in charge of decorating the whole cafe for Nygus' party... and Soul was supposed to give me some lessons on rhythm today, too!"

Blair's ears perk. "Oh, Soul? He's new! Who is he? Is he cute?"

"Yeah, but—!" Maka catches herself, darting horrified eyes to Blair's sly gold ones.

"_Ohhh!_" Blair giggles, madly. She leans over the table, eagerly. "Look at your_ face!_ I got you! Does Maka-nya have a wittle _crush_ on Soul?" Blair grins when Maka shakes her head furiously, her flush going all the way down to her neckline. "Who is he, who is he, who is he? Oh! Is he rich? If he is, keep him on a tight leash!"

"BLAIR!" Maka shouts, scandalized.

"Hehe, Blair is just joking! He can be as poor as dirt – as long as he makes you happy, I don't care." Blair smiles, brightly. "He sounds like he's a good friend! Tell me more about him!"

_Friend._

Was he really her friend?

Did she actually have friends despite the stubborn insistence that those people she spoke to were mere acquaintances? She did, if she felt so reluctant to leave them. But now Soul as well? Who else would begin to worm their way into her fragile heart? Black Star? Liz, Patty?

Or had they already managed to? Maka wearily thinks, not so against the idea as Blair continues to pester her about Soul.

"Blair doesn't have a cell phone on her since she lost it." Blair says, patting her pockets briefly. "Kid better not be making a ruckus, he'll get in big trouble if he does...!" He puffs her cheeks out.

Maka places her fork on her empty plate and removes the napkin from her lap. "I better go then... I did promise to be there for the party and I didn't arrive. He's probably be looking for me right now as we speak."

"Okay!" Blair says, somewhat reluctant. They both stand and Blair pays the bill with a credit card Maka doesn't recognize. It's probably another man who has rented her for the month and is paying for any expenses she might have. Blair usually made the most money like that. "Come on." Blair says, tucking the card between her breasts and winking at the guy across from them, slack-jawed and entranced. Maka just sighs at her antics. "I'd walk you back home but if Giriko see's me..."

"I know."

Blair bites her lip. "I'll call a taxi for you!"

"It's okay, you don't have to, Blair! I can just walk back home!"

"It's too late to walk back by yourself, Maka-nya, remember what I told you? A pretty girl can't be walking the streets without a strong man by her side!" Blair giggles. Maka watches Blair walk to a phone booth and dial in a number, quickly arranging for a taxi to come and pick Maka up.

Blair won't be back after this.

It's the last time she'll see her.

Maka might have friends now but the closest person to her is Blair – a whore, ironically, but she doesn't care much for that fact anymore. Kid might come next on her list, perhaps Soul after him, but no one has cared for her as much as Blair has. She's the reason Maka hasn't been coerced into this bad living; the reason Maka hasn't been shot yet, kidnapped, or any other terrible thing a person can think of when living in such a hostile environment. She's the reason she's fine and healthy and dare she say it _loved_, and now she'll be gone and Maka will have to face the world without her comforting presence...

"He'll be here in five minutes!" Blair says, stopping beside Maka again.

"Where are you going?" Maka asks after a few seconds, softly.

"New York." Blair answers, smiling sadly when Maka whips her head to her. She was going so far away from Maka, from this sinful city, and although Blair would have loved to take Maka with her, she knew it would be cruel to do so.

Maka had friends here; people who would care for her.

That Soul person seemed mature enough to take her job as her guardian as well, by the way Maka had described him. He seemed like the type of person Blair would approve of for the tiny girl who'd become the nightlight in Blair's dismal life.

A taxi pulls up before them and Maka takes a step back.

"Blair will be okay but you have to promise me you will be, too." Blair says, bringing her into a tight hug that she returns. "Don't go looking for trouble, okay? And move out of that apartment as soon as you can!" Blair pulls back, fixing Maka with a stern look. "I can't protect you from Giriko anymore, Maka-nya, and he'll do anything he can to hurt you because you're like my little kitten." Blair smiles, warmly. "Kid should know if there a few apartment openings away from Giriko. I want you to move out as soon as possible, okay?"

"Okay..."

"I mean it, Maka." Blair warns, nibbling her thumbnail. "It's not safe there anymore."

"I know."

Blair pushes her into the taxi, handing her enough money to pay the fare. She takes a pigtail between her fingers fondly when Maka looks up miserably. "Don't make such a sad face, Maka-nya, you'll see Blair again!"

"Yeah, but who knows how many years _that_ might take!" Maka shouts, holding back tears. It's hard to do so, knowing that in a few seconds she'll be gone forever. "You're wanted here, Blair, you can't come back..." Her voice cracks. "I won't be able to see you anymore."

"One day, we'll see each other – no matter how long that takes, we will." Blair declares with such conviction that it eases some of the sadness in Maka's heart. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the envelop with Giriko's sum. Maka supposes Blair hadn't managed to give it to him and Maka pales at the thought of this being all her fault because she had been too much of a coward to hand the sum to Giriko herself. "Use this money to move out, okay? Oh! Or buy yourself a nice dress! You look very pretty in dresses! I'll see you soon, okay, Maka-nya?"

"But, Blair—!"

She shuts the door before she can change her mind and Maka watches helplessly as the taxi pulls away from the curb, away from the seductress and the one person who managed to gain her full trust.

The person who she possibly ran out of her life herself with her own cowardice. In that moment, Maka thinks that she'll never do that again. She'll never have someone do something because she's too afraid to. She'll stand up for herself; she'll do things on her own, even if they're scary sometimes. She'll never commit this same mistake ever again, Maka swears to herself.

"Bye..." She whispers, voice cracking. "_Blair_."


	5. Chapter 5

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong><em>.<em>05  
><strong>_nine, ten, a big fat hen_

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><p>She didn't go to the school the next day.<p>

Her phone was uncharged by the time she returned home and she had cut her home phone so as not to waste money. She had to pay the rent and Giriko's personal sum so paying for a phone that will never ring or be used by her was pointless in her eyes. It was also because of this that many other things, like cable or video games, had been denied to her.

As such, she hadn't been able to contact Kid and she had hoped he hadn't filed in a police report yet.

She's already dressed in her uniform but, after a seconds thought, decides there are more important things to do than work - with what her homework being unfinished and all. Regardless, going would mean facing everyone and facing questions she isn't exactly ready to answer, the wound of loss still raw in her bosom. Kid didn't know Blair as closely as Maka hoped and, because of that, he was unaware that she held the woman at such high regard. He probably had no idea that that woman was the reason Maka hadn't ended up becoming Giriko's slave or worse, knowing him.

Maka unplugs her phone from the wall and switches it on, cringing when she sees just how many calls from Kid she had missed.

Twenty nine.

She _really_ hopes he hasn't filed in that report yet...

She quickly calls him and waits, wincing when he answers on the second ring and his panicked voice screams into her ear. She is assaulted with questions on her well-being, why she hadn't arrived yesterday and _why, why, why_ she hasn't answered her phone. She can hear Black Star in the background, asking how she was as well, and she swears she heard _Soul _even though it was still too early for him to arrive at the cafe...

Their concern makes her chest tighten with something warm; a small smile lifting her lips. She did have friends, after all. She guesses she couldn't avoid them forever and she's grateful she has people that care about her, even a smidgen. This only reinforces the promise she made last night. She wouldn't let anything happen to them, Maka thinks. Not if she could help it.

"I'm fine, Kid, really." Maka says, for the umpteenth time. "Listen, I can't go to work today because I need to finish my homework so could you please tell Nygus that I won't be coming in? And tell her I wish her a happy birthday and that I'm sorry I couldn't come to her party yesterday..."

It's quiet for a second.

"_Are you sure you're alright? You sound strange."_

Maka smiles, softly. She has friends and they're the reason she hadn't left with Blair but she feels no scorn. Blair had told her they'll be there for her. Maka hopes so as she answers softly: "I'm okay, Kid. I'll see you at school tomorrow, I'm out of minutes on this thing. Bye."

"_...Take care, Maka."_

She hangs up and sighs, taking off her shirt and pants after all and slipping on a long sweater Blair had bought her as a present a while ago, along with a pair of loose-fitting shorts. It's thick and sherbert orange, reaching down to her thighs and hiding her shorts from view. She remembers the woman had squealed she would look utterly _adorable_ in it and had practically shoved the thing in her arms, ignoring her protests. Maka plops down on her couch and turns on her television, resigning herself to an hour spent watching analog TV before working on her homework.

When she finally gets around to digging through her book bag, a flurry of papers and assignments bombards her. Maka cringes at the thought of needing to work _twice_ as hard in order to finish all of her assignments when she hears rapid footfalls in the hall. She turns to the door apprehensively, the thought of Giriko pestering her with a few of his friends making her stomach drop, when the familiar shout of Black Star's holler relieves all doubt.

And replaces her reluctance with confusion.

"What the...?" Maka jumps when Black Star pounds on the door.

"Hey, Maka, open up! I know you're in there! I can _sense_ it!" Black Star yells, pounding on the door. "Hurry up! It smells like piss out here—!"

"Have some respect, Black Star!" Kid's muffled snap makes her sigh, and Maka scrambles up. She lets her eyes quickly scan her living room – everything seems normal, nothing out of place, if a little empty. She ignores the regretful tug in her chest that _told_ her she should have invested more in furniture as she creaks the door open and is met with Black Star's grin, Kid's relieved smile...and Soul's crooked grin.

Tsubaki pops up from beside Black Star, smiling nervously. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, Maka-chan, but Black Star left before I could stop him..."

"Yeah, well, you sounded all emo so I was just making sure you weren't gonna' kill yourself! I'm not a sacrificial-type of god!" Black Star loftily states, pushing past her and automatically letting himself drape on her couch.

"So this is where Maka lives?" Liz exclaims with unease. Patty is looking around her in what Maka can define as nostalgia. "Whoa, you live in a really _bad_ place, Maka! No wonder Kid was freaking out yesterday!"

"No kidding." Maka mutters, motioning them inside. "You better hurry up before the landlord gets mad and makes a fuss." The sisters cast hollow, knowing, eyes to her, eyes that _know_ exactly what she means, and Maka decides she'll question them later as they scurry inside. Soul is the last to enter and Maka looks down both ways before slamming the door shut and locking it up for good measure.

Black Star made a lot of noise in his arrival and she has no doubt Giriko would be informed of this disturbance shortly.

She can only hope he won't create too much of a fuss.

"Neh! Neh! You missed out yesterday, Maka!" Patty cheerfully says. "We had _so_ much fun! Soul was there and - and he managed to smush Nygus' face in the cake like _this!_" Patty demonstrates, as everyone else grins at the memory. "But it would have been funner if _you_ had been there! Where where you, Makaaa?"

"Yeah, why didn't you come, Maka! You were supposed to decorate the place!" Black Star adds in irritation, before grinning: "You should've seen how much of a mess Kid and Liz made when they figured out you weren't coming!"

Maka apologetically looks at them. "Ah, right. Sorry about that. I had something really urgent to get to and I didn't have any way of contacting you guys!" She pauses, glancing at Kid and Black Star suspiciously. "Whose taking your places if you're here...?"

"Kilik and Harvar." Kid answers. "Nygus was worried about your well-being after yesterday, however we will have to make up for skipping our shift on our day off. But it's fine, knowing you're safe." Kid pauses her guilty reply with a raised hand, smiling.

"What _was_ so important you couldn't give us a ring?" Soul asks, leaning his elbows against the top of the couch. His eyes are hard, and Maka can't fathom why he looks so much like a parent scolding a child than a friend in those seconds.

Maka drops her eyes. "A really close friend of mine...left."

She doesn't see it but Kid's eyes narrow and Black Star glances at Soul to convey his own suspicions, the three of them thrown in a loop as they had no idea that Maka had other friends aside from them. It's not thought meanly, rather in surprise, as Maka would have surely mentioned this special person to them, right...?

"That sucks!" Liz blurts, the uneasy silence making her nervous. "Where did she go?"

"New York." Maka answers. "It was short-notice but I made it in time to see her off." _Or rather she saw me off, _Maka decides, remembering how Blair had watched the taxi drive her farther and farther away with that same sad little smile on her glossy lips.

"Well, I'm glad that nothing happened to you, Maka." Kid clears his throat. Maka is amused by the fact that he looks like a parent who found their lost child in a supermarket. "Do call us when you're pulling another stunt like this, though, it can't be good for my heart if I keep thinking something happened to you."

"I can take care of myself!" Maka protests.

Soul snorts. "About half as well as a kitten can go against a pit bull."

Maka glares. "You'd be surprised."

Soul grins, taunting. "Doubt it."

"Hey, Maka!" Patty bounces to her kitchen. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"There should be some soda in the fridge." Maka says, smiling when Patty cheers and she hears the familiar clink of glasses as she pours the refreshments. The atmosphere evens out then, thankfully, and Maka is glad to see that some of her depression had ebbed with her friends happy chatter there to distract her. Liz takes it upon herself to tell her what she missed yesterday, not leaving out a single detail, and Soul tosses her his phone that holds pictures of yesterday as well.

Ironic, how they seemingly had the time of their lives while hers was destroyed by a few words.

A knock disturbs the friendly atmosphere and Maka stands up to answer, shaking her head when Patty elbows Black Star and he nearly spits out his drink.

"Don't make a mess! I don't want to have to clean up after you guys!" Maka laughs, and opens the door. All humor drains from her face. Her heart drops at the sight of those sadistic eyes. They're hazed out, a smudge of brown, and Maka has no doubt that he's drugged himself up and is out looking for trouble.

"Giriko..."

"Well, you sure opened up and made friends, huh?" Giriko says, mock-friendly. He leans in the door frame as everything behind her stills. "Finally realized hanging out with that slut didn't benefit you, right?"

"Don't call her that!" Maka snaps. She's aware of her friends eyes on her as she reaches into her sweaters pocket and pulls out a crisp white envelop. She guesses she'll have to put off a lot of bills if she ever plans to move out of this dangerous place. "You're here for this, right? I got the money before the end of the week, like you said. Here. Take it and get out." She shoves the envelop in his hands but his fingers clamp around her own and she flinches back visibly.

"What's the hurry? I just got here."

"Hey, let her go."

Maka pales at the sound of Soul's icy voice.

She hears shuffling before Black Star's voice cuts through the tense atmosphere: "You heard him – get your hands off Maka."

She presses her lips together at their interference, tearing her hand out of his grasp and taking a step back. She doesn't know what type of drug he's on tonight but if it's any of the hard ones, he'll be hostile and aggressive if she doesn't watch her step. The last thing she needs is for him to start something while her friends are over.

"I'll do whatever I want, you little shit!" Giriko nastily tells Black Star, grinning at the hostility that crackles in his turquoise eyes.

"Black Star..." Tsubaki softly says, placing a hand on his arm.

"Huh, nice girl you got there." He remarks, running his eyes down her body. Tsubaki hides behind Black Star timidly. "She's got big tits unlike this smart ass right here—!" Giriko motions to Maka, who darts her eyes away from his drunk gaze and clenches her fists at his jab at her body.

Soul sneers at him.

"Wait a second..." Giriko squints, looking at the two sisters that stare back at him with trepidation. "Thompson, is that you?" A grin splits his face when he realizes it really _is_ Liz. She looks regretful and livid. Kid calmly looks at them to see Patty hiding behind her sister and an unusual, hostile, glint in Liz's eyes. "You crack me up, Maka! You sure have a knack for befriending whores, huh? First that slutty cat and now _her_? Just where do you find all of these bitches, you have to tell me someday, hahaha—!"

"_Giriko_." Liz spits, clutching her sisters hand. "I thought you were doing time!"

"Well, doesn't seem like it, does it?" Giriko retorts, nonchalant. "Got outta' that hell hole a couple of months ago."

Liz grimaces. "I'm surprised you managed to stay out this far with how much shit you do."

"Please, as if some ratty cops can keep me in for long." He snorts. "You should know me better than that, _Elizabeth_—so where's that guy you ditched me to go off with, huh?" His eyes land on Kid, who meets his gaze evenly. "That him?"

"No." Liz says, before Kid could open his mouth.

Giriko scoffs. "Good, 'cause he ain't a lot to look at. Then who is it?"

"Giriko, that's enough." Maka quietly says, but she goes ignored.

"None of your goddamn business!" Liz shouts at Giriko.

"It's _my_ business to know who you're fucking now—!"

"It's _not _so get the fuck out, Giriko, before I make you regret ever getting out of prison!" Liz snarls, standing up. Patty whimpers when Liz touches the waistband of her belt where she keeps her switchblade.

"Hey, relax!" Soul snaps, firmly removing her hand from her belt where he has caught the glint of dangerous metal. He doesn't show any sort of fear but Maka catches the tense muscle in his jaw. "Don't do something you'll regret, Liz!"

"Is it him?" Giriko sneers, baring his teeth at Soul when Liz doesn't reply, too busy trying to calm her raging emotions. "Get the fuck over here, you scrawny little fuck—!"

"NO!" Maka puts herself between him and Giriko. She hears Black Star call out in alarm and feels someone stand behind her as Giriko snarls out something nasty at Soul. "It's not him! Giriko, don't—!"

"Why're you defending him? You want him, too?" Giriko spits, grabbing Maka by her shoulder. His mouth twists into a cruel little grin as he says, with a leer that makes her squirm and flinch: "Figures Blair would teach you how to be _slut_."

"Let her the fuck go." Black Star snarls, pulling Maka to the side. She grips her shoulder, massaging away the pain from the bruise he left with his callous hands. "Before I break your face seven different ways."

A reckless grin climbs to Giriko's pierced face. "Oh, yeah? I'd like to see you try, kid. How much you wanna' bet you won't even last five minutes against me?"

Maka feels Soul quickly take her from between the brewing fight between both men, her protests falling on deaf ears as he pushes her behind him towards Kid for protection. Patty is holding Liz back and Tsubaki is watching the scene unfold in horror, her hands over her mouth as Black Star and Giriko stare each other down; none willing to put their pride behind them.

Maka feels dread well in her stomach when Soul silently stands beside Black Star, making it obvious that he would also jump into the brawl should Giriko start something.

_Soul... _Maka thinks, queasy at the thought of him getting hurt. _Why did you all have to come? _If they had just stayed put, this situation would have never started in the first place! Giriko often came stumbling to her door to bother her for a few minutes before he left, satisfied that he'd put her down in all the ways possible to him in those long minutes.

She wouldn't feel bad if she got hurt but if her _friends_ did...

"Two against one? Big deal." Giriko spits on her carpet, readying himself. "C'mon, hot shot, show me what you got!"

"With pleasure." Black Star cracks his knuckles.

"Black Star, don't!" Maka demands, tearing herself from Kid's side. "Soul, get back—!"

"Get outta' the way, Maka!" Giriko shouts. "This is a fight between men! Not smart-ass bitches like you!"

Her face reddens. "GET OUT!" Maka roars, startling everyone with the amount of fury in her tone. Maka pushes Black Star out of the way. "Don't you have some cocaine to be snorting? Leave me and my friends alone! I already paid you!" She shoves him out, the thug too high to react properly to such disrespect. "I'm moving out tomorrow. I put in next months rent with your fee!"

"Moving out?" Giriko repeats, leaning against the wall languidly. He tilts his head, shaking his head at her. "Who gave _you_ permission to move out?"

Maka slits her eyes.

"That cat, right? Well, she's as good as dead so you _can't _move out. Not until I say so, you got it?" Giriko snarls, his eyes flashing malevolently. "Not since _you_ decided to move in here—!"

"FUCK YOU!" Maka slams the door shut in his face and flinches when he lands a kick against it, the splinter of wood telling her she'd need a new door if she somehow ended up staying the night. Breathing hard, Maka waits until she hears his heavy footfalls disappear down the hall. When she looks up, she knows something is going to break tonight. Something has to, Maka realizes, because now they know just in how much danger her life has been for all these years.

"I could've taken him on – easy." Black Star comments haughtily, breaking the tense silence that had descended upon them.

"That was really reckless, Maka!" Soul snaps at Maka, taking her by the arm and pulling her away from the door. He holds her by both arms, shouting: "He was high – he could've seriously hurt you!"

"You were going to fight him, too!" Maka fires back. "That was really stupid!"

"Yeah, but the difference is Black Star and I could take him and you can't!" Soul heaves a sigh. "Geez, just think what could've happened if we hadn't dropped by..." He drops his hands and runs his fingers through his hair, looking like he needed to take a chill pill himself.

"Soul is right, Maka, something worse could have happened if we had not decided to come visit you." Kid interjects, somberly.

"You mean if _I _hadn't had the great idea of coming to visit her!" Black Star corrects, arrogantly.

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was: you _all_ shouldn't have come in the first place!" She can feel a headache start to grow behind her eyes. "Let's just hope he doesn't remember what happened tomorrow or else you're all screwed." Maka sighs, turning to Liz and Patty. "Sorry about that, Liz. Giriko probably wouldn't have spoken to you like that if he weren't... under the influence."

"Don't you mean high?" Black Star wonders.

"Same thing, idiot." Soul deadpans.

"No way! I thought that was only for, like, drunk driving!"

"It's a classification for all sorts of intoxication, Black Star." Kid calmly answers. "Both chemical and alcohol related."

"But...!"

Maka breaths out slowly as they begin to argue and walks toward Liz, who is cradling her little sister by her side quietly.

"Are you okay, Liz?" Maka asks again, Tsubaki taking a seat beside them as well.

Liz smiles, tired. "It's alright – he was a big-shot around two years ago and always bugged me and Patty." She drops her eyes in apparent guilt. "Kid got me out of there a while ago..."

"Kid is a good guy." Maka says, smiling. "He's kept me from totally withdrawing myself from society, at least."

Tsubaki smiles, almost secretively, at Maka. "Wouldn't you say Soul has done that, instead?"

Maka tenses, caught. "I..."

"It's settled then!" Kid interrupts their quiet conversation, turning to Maka with that look of authority in his tone again. "You're not staying here tonight."

Maka gawks. "_What_? What do you mean—where am I going to stay then, Kid, you can't possibly have enough rooms to let me spend the night!"

"But _we_ do! You can stay with us, Maka!" Patty laughs, seemingly better now that she was sure Giriko was gone. "It'll be like a sleepover! And we can paint our nails and put on make up and eat ice-cream!" The girl giggles, already imagining all they could do with the entire night in their hands.

"No way..." Maka shakes her head, smiling apologetically at Patty's crestfallen face. "That'll just cause more problems – the last thing I need is to involve all of you in my issues. And your father would never approve, Kid, he barely let Liz and Patty stay with you that one time they were fumigating her apartment!"

Liz bites her lip. "We live in a studio, but we can make room for you. At least for a little while..."

"There is no need!" Kid raises a hand, calmly. "I'm sure Father will understand and allow you to spend the night in our home, Maka. He is not as cruel as to leave a person in need on the streets - much less an underaged girl."

"Pfft, yeah, right! He'll let her stay like a _day_ at most!" Black Star snorts derisively, ignoring Kid's dark look. "Kid's dad is such a dick."

"I can explain your situation to father!" Kid insists. "He would surely allow you to stay if—!"

"No, Kid!" Maka sighs, shaking her head when he sputters. "No way! That would make everything worse! He'll want to take authoritative action and that'll just..." Maka falters, knowing that would also put a hit on _her_ head. She couldn't afford to move out like Blair had. "It's not a good idea, Kid."

"Why not? He's an escaped convict! Surely if we were to turn him in—!"

"You don't get it, Kid." Liz interrupts, solemn. "If you tell the police, even if it's anonymous, they'll _know_ it was you, and even if they don't, Maka's gonna' get blamed. Maka would be considered a snitch and, trust me, if she is..." Liz cast her a pitying look that made her clench her hands into fists. "She won't see tomorrow."

Soul tenses, his jaw taut, and Maka avoids his troubled eyes.

Kid presses his lips together. "She most certainly cannot stay here tonight! Who knows if he has another episode and decides to come back? We cannot spend the night here to keep her safe, that will be foolishly risking our lives as well! She has no other choice but to spend a night at either my home or Liz and Patty's, if they wish." Kid sighed, troubled.

"I can always go to a hotel." Maka suggests.

"A hotel seems like a good idea." Tsubaki agrees. "For the night, it's fine. I would allow you to spend the night in my home, however..." Tsubaki falteres. "I do not think father or mother would appreciate it very much." She offers a weak smile and Maka merely nods, not at all offended. Maka knew her parents were strict about who they let befriend their daughter and who they allowed in their home. If they discovered the reason for why Maka needed a place to stay, no doubt they would allow it but _only_ that single time. Maka would rather not risk losing Tsubaki because of her strict and overprotective parents.

"Okay, so, technically she's got a place to stay but... what about the rest of the month?" Black Star pipes, hands laced behind his neck casually. "You're broke, right?"

Maka glares at his blunt way of putting it.

Silence descends upon them, as each ponders this uncertain situation.

A soft sigh breaks the thoughtful atmosphere. "She can crash with me for as long as she likes." Soul says, causing several heads to turn. Liz arches a brow and Patty grins knowingly but Soul ignores their looks. "I've got an extra room in my apartment and it's pretty far away from here. Giriko will never find her there."

"What about your parents?" Maka asks, uncertainly.

Blankly, he says: "I moved out of my parent's place a couple of months ago."

"But I don't want to be a burden..." Maka mumbles, stubbornly.

"Trust me, you'd be more of a burden to me if you stayed here for the night." Soul dryly says. "You'd keep me up all night with nightmares." He sighs, as if annoyed with the entire situation, and shifts his eyes away from her troubled ones.

"Well, it's settled. I feel better knowing Maka will be in good hands. Thank you, Soul, for offering." Kid gratefully says, on behalf of Maka, since the girl had sourly looked off to the side at being silenced so easily. "Well, pack your bags, Maka, you won't be coming back here any time soon."

"B-but what about all of my furniture?" Maka protests, weakly.

"Like it's _worth_ keeping – you can sell it if ya' want!" Black Star grins, cheekily. "I'd buy this couch off you for...ten bucks! Nah, five. It's pretty ugly—!"

"MAKA CHOP!"

"Oh, Black Star..." Tsubaki sighs, kneeling to nurse the boy who was effectively silenced with a book chop to the head.

"Ah, forget him. C'mon, Maka." Liz rolls her eyes at Black Star's prone body on the floor, standing up. "I'll help you pack."

"Me too! Me too!" Patty adds.

Maka stubbornly refuses to move until Soul nudges her shoulder with his knuckle, smiling crookedly in encouragement when she spares him a glance.

"You better do it before I do it for you." He tauntingly tells her, widening his smile at her narrowed eyes. "I don't think you'd like me going through your underwear drawer—!"

"Gross! You perv!" Maka smacks his arm, ignoring his snicker as she follows Liz into her room.

"Do you have a bag or something?" Liz asks, and Maka nods.

"It's in the closet – here, let me get it..." Maka pulls out the bag she used previously to move out of her papa's place. She places it by her bedside, and Liz opens some of her drawers to begin stacking her clothes. Maka takes out another equally large traveling bag and Patty quickly starts to pluck off the few things she has around the room.

She watches her friends for a moment, the sisters that appear to work in unison as they pack her things. There is a practiced air in the way they move around her room packing things that Maka cannot help but to think how many times they have done this before. They even organize the objects in a way that allows them to take full advantage of the traveling bag.

"So you two knew Giriko before..." Maka quietly says, and Liz falters. Patty slows down, dropping her eyes to the thick tome in her hand.

"Yeah, I went out with that jerk once." Liz states, surprising her. "Not willingly, y'know, but..." She shrugs. "What can you do? He was one of the higher ranking OG's and if I rejected him, he'd get me back. I already had my hands tied with trying to pay the rent and feeding Patty...he promised me he'd pay for the rent, leaving me more money to give Patty what she deserves."

"Wait... so you lived here before?"

"Not here, but the building next door to this one." Liz smiles slightly at Maka's silent surprise. "This is his zone – well, was. I don't know if he's still in that stupid gang or whatever but if he is then it's better if you move in with Soul until we can find you a decent place to live. The farther away you are from that guy, the better."

Maka nods distantly, aiding Patty in stacking her books in the second traveling bag as Liz finishes up stacking her clothes.

Maka doesn't own many things, and she's grateful for this now because they finish packing up her most valuable objects in no time at all. They zip up the bags and wheel them into the living room, where Black Star and Kid are arguing and Soul is messing around with something on his iPod.

Soul looks up the instant Maka walks into the room, slipping his MP3 player in his pocket.

"That's it?" Soul motions for the luggage with his chin.

"Yep." Maka nods. "That's it."

"Cool, that doesn't seem like a lot." Soul smiles. "You're not gonna' take anything from here?"

"No... it's better to leave it like this in case he breaks in to check if I left or not." Maka says, pretending she doesn't see his eyes darken. "It'll take him longer to figure out I did, and by then it would be too late to find me."

"You'll also have to keep low-key for a while." Liz says, crossing her arms over her chest. "He still knows what school you go to and where you work, so you have keep your eyes peeled for him. Hopefully, he'll forget what happened tonight if he was as stoned as I thought he was."

Maka nods.

"Good!" Kid claps his hands. "Then let's go before it gets any later!"

"I'll take the bags!" Black Star offers, puffing his chest out.

"You sure? They're heavy." Liz smirks when Black Star merely snorts.

"As if two bags are gonna' be heavy for someone as big as _me_." Black Star arrogantly says, and moves to snatch the luggage from their sides. Studiously ignoring the wheels on the bottom of the two bags, Black Star heaves them up and nearly tips over from their weight.

Soul bursts out laughing and Maka has to bite down a giggle when Black Star incredulously stares at the bags.

"What the hell do you have in here? Rocks!"

"Worse." Maka muffles laughter behind her hand. "_Books_."

"C'mon, man." Soul chuckles, opening the door so he could go through. "Load them in the car. Let's get outta' here already."

"Yeah, yeah, hold up! Lemme' just fix my grip on these things!" Black Star grumbles, but does manage to carry them out the door. Tsubaki quickly follows, Kid right behind her with his usual nonchalant air, and Patty and Liz glance at her before following them out.

Maka walks over to a vase and picks it up. It's an oriental vase but the intricate designs don't interest her: it's what's inside that does. She shakes out the roll of bills and sticks them in her sweaters pocket, placing the vase back in place and giving the area one last sweep before turning.

"Oh!" Maka gasps when she meets Soul's chest. "A warning would be nice next time!" Maka snaps, but Soul just raises a brow.

"Yeah, sure, next time." He says, not too concerned. He tilts his head, nodding his chin at her hand. "What was that?"

"Some money I've been saving up in case something like this happened." Maka admits, feeling the weight of the rubber-banded bills in her sweaters pocket.

"Has this happened before?"

Maka wants to say no but she knows it's pointless by the way he's looking at her.

"A few times." Maka says, reluctantly. His distaste is visible in the way he grimaces and she quickly adds: "But he usually left afterward. It was different today because he recognized Liz... maybe if it had only been me, he wouldn't have started something, but since it was everyone..." She trails off, guilty.

She looks up when Soul places a hand on her shoulder. "Be glad he left before something _did _start." The way he smiled, rather twistedly, causes her throat to tighten. But she doesn't remove his hand, rather she places her own on top of his, as if to sooth his own violent tendencies. "Come on, before Kid has another hissy fit."

Her face warms when he takes her hand and leads her out of her apartment. There's a moment when his hand is about to leave hers - she recognizes the way his muscles move, the way each digit twitches right before they release - and she tightens her grip and holds her breath. It's only a split second, just a fraction in time, before his hand contracts and it's wrapped securely around hers again without comment.

He doesn't let go anymore, even when they settle themselves in the back of Kid's car; even when Liz catches sight of their held hands and smirks wickedly at Soul; and even when she tries to take her hand back, because holding hands with a _boy_ makes her clumsy and sweaty.

He firmly holds onto her hand.

Maka can't help but think of Blair the entire time; how she'd giggle and swoon and giggle some more at the mere thought. She would never let her live it down, Maka distantly thinks, she would always be bringing it up; probably gushing how adorable it was, how she was growing up. She would make lewd comments, she thinks with a faint smile, Maka can only imagine what the woman would come up with to embarrass her. She kind of wishes she would, if only because that would mean Blair was there, with her, and not half-way across the country.

"Hey, let's go back to pick up my bike!" Soul speaks up. Kid flashes his eyes to his rear view mirror to look at him. "I'm not leaving it there all night!"

"Is that okay with everyone?" Kid asks, receiving nods and shrugs. Soul leans back in his seat, tugging her hand to rest on his lap but not letting go. The motion is nostalgic. Everything about this is nostalgic.

Maka is suddenly reminded of a particular memory from when she was younger. Blair had taken her to work because Giriko had been holding a dog-fighting match in his apartment and it scared her to hear the dogs cries or whimpers when they were injured by their opponent. Blair never let her hand go as they walked down the street, down the grisly sidewalk that led to the club. Her hand was firm on hers until they reached Blair's dressing room. Blair had told her to watch television and entertain herself with whatever there was available, and that she would return in a few hours to pick her up and take her back home.

The room had been almost sound-proof, muffling the low-bass music that came from down the hall effectively. She had spent the entire time watching a few movies, immersed with the moving pictures on the television that was placed on a wide vanity, until Blair came back smelling of sex, money, alcohol and something distinctly fruity, and dropped her off at home as if she had only gone to the supermarket.

Maka didn't ask what she was doing.

Blair didn't elaborate.

But just the way Blair held her hand, like a mother walking with her child outside, reassured Maka. She hadn't felt scared, even as they walked through the brightly lit halls of that gentlemen club, past the guffawing men and scantly clad women. She hadn't felt like she would be abused, as the other women eyed her like money or eyed her like trash, and she had actually felt _safe_ in that breeding ground of sin, even when Blair pushed her into her private dressing room and left her there for a few hours while she worked...

Maka squeezes Soul's hand, relieved when he squeezes back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.06<strong>_**  
><strong>__eleven, twelve, who will delve…?_

* * *

><p>"Aren't you gonna' go to sleep? You have school tomorrow," Soul says, watching her startle as she look up from her textbook. She had settled in quite well a few hours ago although she had appeared terribly awkward standing in the middle of his spacious and elegantly decorated living room. It was a vast difference from her own living room; somewhat giving off the impression as the apartment being more for show than actual inhabitance.<p>

Maka had wondered if he had chosen out the furniture himself. She had a feeling he didn't – if only because Soul didn't strike her as the type to browse Ikea for furniture on any given day. It might also explain the emptiness that radiated from each object; a light layer of dust on the surfaces of his possessions as if he had never touched them again after they were placed there. The extra room he had was relatively plain, serving more as a guest room than anything, which struck Maka as odd. Everything about Soul's living arrangements was odd. It made her wonder about his background– perhaps he had come from a wealthy family? It would explain why he had rented a two bedroom instead of a plain one bedroom or studio like most would in his situation. It would also explain why all this clothes were brand name and why he owned electronic devices she never even heard of...

"I just have to get through this section." Maka smiles tiredly, the ornate lamp beside her illuminating just enough of the text so she did not strain her eyesight. Soul frowns but doesn't comment further, yawning out a lazy goodnight and heading into his room for the night. Once the door shuts, Maka turns her gaze back to her textbook.

She would be intruding on Soul's preferred solitude until she managed to find another apartment. Perhaps if she saved up the money that was deducted from her papa's paycheck, she would be able to find a decent place somewhere far away from Giriko's clutches. It would be nice living where Soul did, Maka finds herself thinking, in such a nice neighborhood with calm streets and well-lit sidewalks – unlike her own neighborhood, whose street lamps had been knocked out by delinquents and the worst of the worst showed their faces after eight o'clock.

Maka closes her textbook silently after a few long minutes. She places it on the ornate coffee table, whose clear glass top appeared to have ring-stains from where Soul would place his drink and not wipe it off afterwards. She would take care of that, Maka thinks quietly, perhaps even give the entire apartment a good cleaning when she had the chance. It was the least she could do, after practically guilt-tripping him into taking her in for a few days.

His black sectional couch felt new, as if it hadn't been used by anyone. But she can see signs of use by the edge, where no doubt Soul would occupy afterschool for a few hours. But only that spot appeared worn: the rest remained seemingly untouched. The cushions were still firm and new and the black color was glossy and bright. She sinks back into the couch without further thought, gazing at her textbook once more. After a few moments, she reaches forward and her fingers seek the familiar bookmark. She unfolds the worn picture, smoothing out its creases and staring at the faded image of two girls who beamed back at the camera.

It was the day of her fifteenth birthday, and Blair stood behind her in tight jeans and an equally tight tank top. It was white, with a black bra that showed through indecently. But it was mainly hidden by her own lanky body, which stood in front of Blair holding what seemed to be a pink box with light green cloth poking out from pastel pink tissue paper. They both bore twinkling eyes, with a laughing smile on her face while Blair shot the camera her model-friendly smile. They were in her small kitchen, and the person who'd taken the picture had actually been a customer of Blair's who didn't mind spending a little extra time while the woman settled her business with Maka.

It was a happy day, even if Blair had left two hours later. She had been very happy that day, trying on her soft green summer dress that actually looked good on her. She still has that dress: it was packed somewhere in her luggage, Maka grimly thinks, but she'd never had a real chance to wear it. She'd worn it once, out of Blair's persistence, and they'd gone for lunch. That had been another nice day spent with her practical caretaker.

_"You look very pretty in dresses!" _her cheerful laugh rings in her ears, seizing her with a sudden despair. _"Maka-nya!" _

Maka rubs her watery eyes out, the picture drooping in her hand. Those had been nice days, with Blair always closeby. She hovered, like a protective mother cat watching over her young. She remembers the day Blair had taught her how to spot danger – how to spot the obvious signs of a looming gang brawl, how to escape if caught in one, how to avoid such situations in the first place. She taught her how to jay walk busy streets without getting run over; how to hot-wire a car; how to break into a house without breaking the lock. They were basic things that could help her, Blair had told her, what if she needed to run away from some bad guys and there was nowhere to go but inside someone else's house? Perhaps break the window of a car and hot-wire it? Run through traffic without getting run over in the process?

She was always trying to coat bad deeds with glitter, Maka thinks bitterly. Just like she sugar-coated her own sinful job in her own denial of her misshapen and broken life...

A thick feeling collects in her throat, threatening to give with every heave of her chest. It does eventually, in tiny squeaks that she muffles with her hand. The picture in her hand wavers, begins to blur out of focus as more tears well in her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. Blair had always looked out for her the best she could. Maka hates to admit it but even her biological mother wasn't as doting as Blair was. Maka can hardly remember Kami Albarn but her father always made her out to be stupendous and great. She doesn't want to remember Spirit Albarn...

Her forehead falls in her hand, tears sliding down her cheeks. She sucks in a few breaths, holding the picture upright again. She wouldn't have a doting caretaker anymore: she was really on her own now. She can't afford to make mistakes anymore: Blair wouldn't be there to cover for her. She has to watch herself, be on her toes, not do anything stupid, because Blair wasn't there to pinch her cheek and tell her to stop being such a bother and pay attention to what "_Blair-nya has to say,_" her voice seems to purr in her ear with that same coat of honey, clutching her heart as if caught between the two ends of sharp pincers.

"Maka?"

"Soul?" Maka gasps, snapping her head up. She scrambles to hide the picture, tossing it beside her as her hands automatically rise to hastily wipe away her tears. "What are you doing up so late? I thought you went to bed!" Maka hoarsely says, trying to play off her clear distress despite the fact that the lit lamp beside her highlights the streaks that run down her cheeks.

"It's two in the morning." He says instead, watching her duck her head and look away.

"Oh, I didn't notice. I'll get to bed soon." She clears her throat, swallowing down another wave of waterworks. She hears the seat beside her sink with weight, a sigh escaping his lips.

"What're you crying for?" He asks gruffly, and Maka just sucks in another sob as her eyes water again. She bites her lip, tentatively reaching for the picture she'd hastily hidden. She holds it in her hand, holding it in a way that he may also see the object of her sorrow. The dim light from the lamp silhouettes them against the carpet, as his eyes gaze at the picture silently.

"Her stage name is Blair, but she eventually kept it as her real name. She told me she didn't like her birth name anymore. She took care of me after I moved into my apartment," Maka softly explains, keeping her eyes on Blair's cheerful amber ones. "I relied on her a lot. She…she was like my mom. She was always there for me, even if she had to go to work at night. Sometimes she'd skip out just to keep me company." She sniffles, blinking away more tears. "She was green lit a few days ago," Maka answers his silent question. "That's why she left. Giriko – he made it out like she…died. That's why I couldn't tell you all I couldn't make it that day. I wasn't thinking about that: it wasn't as important as finding out if Blair actually…" She drops her eyes back to the picture, her frozen bright golden eyes and curling smile. "…Instead I had dinner with her one last time since she was leaving for New York."

Soul watches her contain her sobs stubbornly, hastily wiping away the tears that accumulate on her chin. After a moment, Soul reaches over to the photo and folds it in half again. He sticks it in between the cushions, reaching over to pull off the bands that keep her hair in its signature pigtails. She watches him curiously, sniffling as he lets her hair loose and shakes it out a bit with his fingers for her comfort. He tosses the bands on the table, finally saying: "I get it. After you moved outta' your dads place, she became like a maternal figure for you, huh?"

"She kept me safe," Maka whispers. She hunches over a bit, her hands clasping and slipping between her thighs as if cold. "It's the reason Giriko didn't try anything on me, until now when she left. Blair – she had a lot of connections. She could have Giriko back in prison without even breaking a nail," she smiles weakly, dropping her eyes to the floor. "But since she's got a hit on her head, it's harder to do that because a lot of people are after her now."

"So it's not just Giriko?"

"It's who can kill her first." Maka replies, wearily. "They get the reward money." She presses her lips together grimly. She swallows down bile, feeling much calmer now that Soul sits beside her. But she still feels the distance: when she'd cry, Blair would always bring her into a tight hug and coo nonsense into her ear. She'd purr like a cat, stroking her cheek and telling her that pretty girls shouldn't cry because they deserved better than that.

"…I'm scared she'll die." Maka says before Soul can speak, permanently pausing his train of thought. "She's always been careless and airheaded. She doesn't take things seriously! She was still in town after she got a hit on her head!" Maka shouts, anger bubbling to the surface. "And out of all places, New York! She could have chosen a better location, like Chicago or Miami! She knows Giriko has some guys over there, too…what if they get her? Or – or worse?" Maka's voice cracks.

"She'll be fine. Stop worrying yourself over what isn't gonna' happen. You're being a wimp right now." Soul says, tone undeniably soothing despite his rude words. She shoot him a withering look, using the neckline of her shirt to wipe away some tears. More take their place, but she still tries, somewhat annoyed by Soul's lack of sympathy. She hears another frustrated sigh and then grunts when she feels his hand wipe at her cheek roughly.

"Ouch!"

"Hold still."

She does, closing her eyes while he wipes her face with a small frown. She tries pulling away, growling warnings under her breath, but he either does not hear them or ignores them; continuing his task swiftly. She feels the back of his hand swipe under her nose and laughs a little when he groans.

"Gross." He wipes it on his sweatpants, the back of his knuckles drying away the moisture under her eyes. "You're such a baby, y'know that?" He smiles a little when she sours. "You're not gonna' sleep tonight. So, I'll stay up with you. I'll be a nerd for one night and teach you something."

"What is it?" Maka asks, sniffling slightly. She watches him lean back toward the lamp, turning it off and engulfing them in darkness. "Soul?"

"Just do as I say." She feels his hand rest on her shoulder, nudging her to scoot closer to him. She does, curious to see what he has in store for her, and tenses when she feels his arm wrap around her shoulder and pull her closer to him. "I'll teach you that lesson on rhythm now." Soul murmurs, bringing her ear to his chest. She tenses, hearing the rapidly beating organ with more clarity than she ever believed she would. "Do you hear it? Count the beats. Find the rhythm. Find the beat."

Maka wipes off a dry streak of tears from her cheek, concentrating on his beating heart instead of her mournful thoughts. She hears it loud and clear; a strong and powerful beat that seemed to reverberate within herself. It is still beating fast, seemingly not slowing, but as time stretches his heart begins to shift into another rhythm. It's something soft and even, as if its owner had fallen asleep, but along with the rhythm of his heart she can hear him take in deep breaths that hitch whenever she shifts.

"Harmony," Maka whispers against his shirt, focusing on both elements. "Your breathing. Right?"

"That's right." Soul replies, and the sound is deep and powerful in his chest. She closes her tired eyes, finding it comforting. "Guess that means we can skip that lesson. Did you find it?"

"Yeah, I understand what you're trying to say." Maka says, hearing his heart pick up again. Her hand presses against his chest, and it picks up a little more. She shifts, positioning herself comfortably on his chest while he tightens his hold on her shoulder. His heart rate picks up even more. "…It's beating really fast…"

"Yeah, it does that sometimes," is all he says, somewhat roughly. She no longer focuses on the predictable beat of his heart. She focuses on his breathing, so awake and alive. Then she focuses on the way his finger strokes lightly across her skin; almost absently, but his heart is beating too strongly and his breathing too controlled for it to be mindless.

"I forgot to give her my number." Maka murmurs into his chest, no longer wanting to cry. "She always forgets my number if it isn't in her contacts."

"What happened to her phone?" Soul asks, finally unwinding and sinking back into the couch while she followed. His neck rests against the armrest and he wiggles down, grunting when she lifted herself up a little and fell back on his chest and curled up against it like a child.

"She lost it. Maybe I could have asked her to call me right now, if she could." Maka says, entertaining the possibilities had she not been so engrossed with her own shock at the time. "Then it wouldn't feel like she's gone forever."

"She'll be back."

"In a long time." Maka whispers, miserably. "Until then, I'm alone."

"You're not alone." Soul states, firmly. "You've got Kid and the others. They'll always be there for you when you need it, like now."

"…It's different, Soul." Maka sighs, knowing he wouldn't understand. "I _know_ they'll always be there until they no longer want to be but… it's different with Blair. Blair – I love Blair." Maka bites her lip, eyes drooping with sadness again. "She's like the mom I imagined but couldn't have because she was always at work. I'm not stupid: she's not going to be back until she somehow manages to get rid of the hit on her head or just eludes capture until they get bored and stop searching. That could take years," she grips his shirt, "people change…"

"She'll always be the same person you know, Maka, no matter how many years go by." Soul answers rationally, his hand moving up to rest on the back of her head. "Maybe you just gotta' make closer friends. I get she's like a mom to you, but she's not. She's your best friend. And she won't be back for a long time, I'm not gonna' lie to you, so now it's your turn to get a new one."

"Blair said that, too." Maka wearily mutters. Then she purses her lips. "I don't want to!"

"Too bad. Go best friend hunting tomorrow or something."

"It doesn't work that way, Soul, you can't just walk up to a random person and ask them if they wanna' be stuck to the hip with you!" Maka growls, looking up to shoot him a glare. She catches the curve of a smirk on his lips before his hand forces her head back down on his chest.

"Not if you ask them like that, they won't." Soul mock-scolds. "You need to have more style than that. Be cool, like me."

Maka rolls her eyes. "I'm not going to go searching for a best friend. That's stupid. I'd rather just stay the way I am than bother with something like that. Blair didn't just became a maternal figure for me randomly – she earned it. I actually hated her at first. I thought she was dumb prostitute at first," Maka guiltily admits, Soul swallowing down a laugh. "But then I found out… she's not like that because she wants to. She needs to, because she has no way of making enough money to pay for the rent on pure minimum wage."

"...But she's still a stripper, right?"

"She's like being called a call girl." Maka mumbles, meekly. "A little better than a stripper."

"Stop trying to justify it." Soul dryly says. "A stripper is a stripper."

"Ugh, can't you just go to sleep or something? You looked tired a minute ago!" Maka snaps, growing irritated with him. He always ends up irritating her at one point or another. She feels his leg shift from under her and Maka slips between his legs easily. One leg dangles over the edge of the couch, the other lays straight. She doesn't dare move from her spot by his chest, his heart rate having gone down significantly while her own threatens to burst from her bosom.

"I can't go to sleep with you using me as a human mattress." Soul flatly remarks and Maka feels her flush all the way down her neckline. She stiffly pulls herself up, bent on sitting back up and heading straight to her room to pretend she hasn't _totally_ overstayed her welcome on his chest. Blair would have never let her live this down if she knew! "Nope – c'mon, I'm not done talking yet." He yanks her back down, pressing a hand over her head like before.

"Then say what you have to say so I can go to sleep! It's – it's about to be _four _in the morning!" Maka groans when she realizes. She will never wake up for school now! She barely awoke when she slept at midnight!

"So what? Tomorrow's a Thursday. Thursday's are boring and uncool."

"I don't like skipping classes!"

"One day won't kill you."

"Soul, I can't miss class! I have a report for my history class and – oh, god, I _forgot_ to do it – !" Maka pales, horrified at her own negligence.

"More of a reason _not_ to go." Soul smartly decides, ignoring Maka's mini-meltdown.

"But now I _have_ to! Even if I didn't do it, I can try to finish it during Stein's class - !"

"No."

"But I have to - !"

"No."

"Soul, dammit, I've already missed a day! This will ruin my record even more - ugh, and I was aiming for perfect attendance, too!"

"You're so uncool sometimes.."

"Let's go to bed!" Maka firmly decides. "We're going to school tomorrow no matter what!"

"No." Soul yawns in disinterest at her corroding look. Before she can sputter out anymore nonsense, Soul silences her with a flat but firm: "As your friend, I command you to _shut up_. We're not going to school - it's four am and you won't learn anything if you're falling asleep in class, anyway. So just chill and take a day off, alright? You're ahead of the class, anyway, another day won't kill you..."

She hears his heart race in his chest almost as much as her own, could almost hear the blood rush through his veins at his brash statement. Her own heart is mingling with the sound of his, catching up and surpassing it if she does say so herself. The pressure in her shoulders, knots in her back, seem to ease at those words, however. She slumps against his chest, thinking that even though Blair had never me him before, she'd always had a knack for predicting these sorts of things.

She'll have to buy her a new set of lingerie when she sees her again, Maka thinks to herself. And hopefully not give the woman the idea to go lingerie shopping for Maka because _that_ will only end in disaster.

"...But we're going to _third_ period, at least," she whispers quietly, and he hums back noncommittally. "Soul?"

"Uh huh..."

She closes her eyes while his fingers massaged her scalp and slowly but surely ease away the headache that had been blossoming behind her eyes from the stress. She doesn't mind that he won't wake her up by third period, that she'll yell at him for doing so, and that it'll start up another argument between them. She doesn't mind it one bit, as both friends fall asleep at the crack of dawn.


	7. Chapter 7

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.07<strong>_**  
><strong>__thirteen, fourteen, draw the curtain_

* * *

><p>He finds himself gazing at the ceiling again a few nights later, his sheets tangled around his legs and his shirt skewed from his tossing and turning. The snuffed lamp that sits on his desk beckons for him, along with the papers he knows are placed beneath it haphazardly in his exhaustion. All he needs to do is sharpen his pencil and go back to the composition he's been putting off for Maka lately.<p>

He understands Maka's pain better than she believes he does although he knows that he'll never understand that feeling of paternity you get from another person other than your mother or father. He doubts he'll ever even know that feeling. But he knows that Blair will come back changed, no matter how much he tells her she won't. Soul knows firsthand how a person can change in just under a year. He can only hope Maka won't be too devastated when Blair returns _different_ than the woman she once knew.

At least he'll be there for her when it happens, he thinks with a weary sigh.

His mother and father aren't as loving as the parents of his friends. He found that out when he was in the fifth grade and he couldn't remember when was the last time his father really, truly, hugged him because he _could_. While his friends parents married for love, his own parents marriage is one of convenience. They don't even share the same bedroom, Soul thinks, they haven't since they conceived two children as was required in their contract. Soul doesn't even think that they had ever tried to make their arranged marriage work: his mother was always off with friends or the sort while his father smoked in the living room and flirted with the maids when he grew bored. When he wasn't, he was working, and thoroughly ignored his sons when he came back tired and yawning.

He only had his brother, Soul thinks dully, and his brother had been the epitome of _cool_ when he was a kid. He was always there for him when he was a child; always there to help him take out the jar of peanut butter from the top shelf in the pantry and always there to ruffle his hair when he scraped his knee outside. But things change. The more his parents expectations had been thrust upon Wes Evans, and the more he began to spend time with his wretched violin than his dear younger sibling, he became something that no longer fit Soul's paradigm of cool.

Soul remembers when Wes was transferred out of the nearby public school and set to study abroad in a prestigious private school whose main focus was bringing out the undeveloped and hidden talents within aspiring musicians – or so his father had often spouted when Soul asked. When Wes had come back a year and a half later, he came back with a haughty, aloof, air. He came back _changed_; a pathetic shadow of the once sweet, humble, older brother Soul looked up to.

He showed off a skill that Soul only wished he had, knowing that his piano skills were subpar compared to Wes' natural elegance with the stringed instrument. His mother had tried teaching a young Soul different instruments in her anxiety: guitar, saxophone, trumpet, drums, viola, cello. But he excelled even less in those, mainly because he skipped the lessons as he grew bored easily, and he was always lured back by the white and black tabs of the piano kept in the Evans music room - even if he could barely play it.

"_What did I tell you about sneaking in here, Soul?" _His mother would shriek when she was home, pointing a rigid finger out down the hall. "_If your father were to hear about this…!"_

"_So what? What's he gonna' do? Hit me? I'll call child services!" _A snarky thirteen year old lashed back, startling his estranged mother silent. He merely grinned, Soul remembers dryly, and waltzed out as if he had the world held in his hands; capable of crushing it at whim. But he knows one person who can shatter that brash persona of his; one person who unfailingly made him shrink into himself, cast his eyes to the floor and feel unworthy of the regal surname Evans.

"_You'll never be able to go to Chetham's with __that__ type of form." _Wes would say evenly when he was home those few times, his eyes as sharp and mean as a cats as he watched his brother hunch over the piano self-consciously. _"I've heard better pianists from my stay in that school and they're considered the worst."_

But this will be his chance, Soul thinks as he pushes away those grim memories, this coming Christmas could be his _very last chance_ to redeem himself! It's too late to attend Chetham's School of Music now, but he can very well admit himself to a prestigious college somewhere in Europe like his parents would have wanted. He can prove his snobby parents wrong, that he isn't doomed for failure, and he can shove his triumphs in his brother's snotty face. He can rise above them – hell, he may even _tear_ the acceptance letter in their faces and let them mourn their own negligence!

Soul snorts at the thought, a slight grin on his face. Like he'd ever get the guts to do _that_ – then all his hard work would be for nothing! The grin disappears soon after, somber with the thought of his current composition. Everything – his name, his life, his _cool – _depended on those few sheets of music borne from the darkest and dampest reaches of his soul. He was never a good musician, Soul admits, he always had trouble focusing on the music and remembering the notes. He was always too hyper to sit still for longer than five minutes; always too adventurous and naturally mischievous to sit for two hours with some old and bitter tutor droning on and on about the history behind some famous musician who had long since been dead.

He always messed up when he was a kid. He always let this thoughts drift and roam while his tutor taught him the basics. He always ditched his classes. He never did his homework. Then when his mother and father would gather in the den, after two or so months of being absorbed in their own lives, to discuss his progress with the tutor, they'd only be let down and disgusted by his own incompetence.

This was his chance to prove to them that the piano was actually an instrument he could – and _has_ – mastered. This was his chance to prove he _did_ have Evans' blood running through his veins. This Christmas would change everything, Soul thinks sigh a heavy sigh.

How uncool.

"Soul! Wake up! It's time for school!" Maka shouts, throwing his door open and greeting him with that cheerful smile of hers. She wears an apron, a spoon in her hand as she continued to rouse him from his sleep. Soul sits up with a grunt, finally feeling the tiring effects of spending all night simmering in his own broody thoughts.

"It's like _seven_ in the morning! It's too early!" He grumbles, flopping back and burying his face in his pillow while Maka frowns. "Go away..."

"Soul, get up! You have to take me school! You_ promised!_"

"Dammit," Soul mutters, knowing he had. He doesn't have first or second period because they're his home periods, as he had arranged when he first became a Senior. It was graciously wonderful because he could go to school late, getting enough sleep when his thoughts wouldn't let him sleep at night, but with Maka having a packed schedule and now living so far from Shibusen High, _someone_ had to take her…

It would be uncool to have her take two buses to school every day.

"Soul, get… _UP!_" Maka shouts, tearing the sheets from his body. Soul hisses, the cold air hitting his bare arms directly.

He snaps his head to her: "Hey, give it back! Dammit, Maka!" He watches as she happily skips out of the room, his sheets dragging behind her. Deciding he'd rather not risk getting hit on the head with a book for his disobedience so early in the morning, Soul reluctantly drags himself to the kitchen and finds she had folded his sheets up nicely and laid them on the couch for him to cocoon himself in when he returned home after dropping her off.

He can smell breakfast come from the kitchen, the mouth-watering smell of crisp bacon strips along with a stack of pancakes as Maka had taken to making every morning. Sometimes she switched bacon for egg or pancakes for french toast but she generally stuck with bacon because it was his favourite. He knew she did this for him because she'd get that relieved look in her eye, as if by doing this she was somehow repaying him for sheltering her.

Soul really doesn't mind having her room with him for free. She cleans and cooks awesome meals every day - perhaps he _had_ needed a woman's touch around the house, now that he looks around and notices small, subtle, changes. It didn't seem so empty anymore; it held a sort of cozy warmth with her added presence. He was content with these things, but try telling Maka, who still insisted she pay half the rent, that.

"Is there any coffee?" Soul asks, pulling out a chair.

"Yeah, do you want orange juice, too?" Maka asks, pouring him a cup of steaming coffee as she did. "I finally bought some yesterday!"

"Nah, just make another cup. I'll need two to keep me awake all day." He yawns, drinking the coffee black despite the glass of sugar and cup of milk she placed in front of him. She just sighs and shakes her head at that, earning herself a grin.

Their routine for this is simple: he takes her to school dressed in black sweatpants with his leather jacket thrown over him lazily and returns, falling back on the couch with the blanket thrown over him while he entertains himself with early morning cartoons. Then, when he grows bored of such immaturity, he would shower and change and head on over back to school even if he was early by half an hour.

But there's a reason he doesn't mind being at school early.

He began school with the music teacher, Mr. Law. Although Soul often grew irritated and annoyed when he went off on a tangent with his religious rants, Soul thought he was cool for allowing him to use one of the practice rooms to practice his piano skills while he taught the class. He was graded not by what the assignments his classmates did, but by how much he's improved since the last time Law heard him play; also by how much he'd advanced in his personal composition.

_So far, so good. _Soul thinks confidently, as he saunters down the shined halls of Shibusen. He idly wonders if Maka is having fun in her advanced calculus class and snickers. She's probably crying over the math being taught – she always kicked him when he teased her about it, finding it funny how she slaved over the homework in order to understand it.

"Tis' almost time, Soul!" Law proclaims the instant he walks into the room. His eyes flicker to the students who stop their noise-making to look at him. "The time of your anticipated _concerto_ draws near!" Law bellows, raising his hands dramatically while Soul drones his greeting and slouches over to one of the sound-proof rooms for his daily practice.

He shuffles out some pages of his composition, sighing heavily as he knows he still has a long way to go. He doesn't have to go this far (memorizing one of Bach's more elaborate pieces would satisfy his parents and silence his haughty brother) but he wants to go above and beyond for once in his life. All his life he'd been nothing but a disappointment in the eyes of his parents, with Wes taking the spotlight without even trying half the time. He was always the under-achiever; the family secret.

It was time he proved his worth, like the cool guy he was.

"Have you almost finished your composition, Soul, the time draws close!" Professor Justin Law delicately asks, peeking into the room.

"Not even half-way through," Soul says, surly. He tosses the teacher his folder, picking on a key idly while Law goes over what he has written thus far.

"Remarkable!" Justin Law exults, continuing his reading while Soul rolls his eyes at his theatrics. "Astonishing!" The man was _too_ over-the-top sometimes. "You must finish, Soul, you cannot stop now! You must continue writing this masterpiece which shall grant you admittance to both any music school around the globe and your families rankings!" He passionately says, springing beside him with a flourish of black robes.

"Yeah, sure." Soul flatly says, snatching his folder from the overly-enthusiastic music teacher whom Soul sorely thinks should have applied as a drama teacher. "How's Maka doing?"

"Fantastic, of course, she has truly improved under your guidance." Law answers with a pleased smile. He leans against the piano, watching his student smile gently at the thought of Maka finally getting a clue about the otherwise simple concept of music. "She got a twenty out of twenty and received full-credit on the short constructed response."

"Which was about...?"

"The inner workings of music and how it may improve ones own life," Law vaguely says, and Soul snorts.

"You're unbelievable, man."

"Not unbelievable! _Unconventional_," Law cleverly says, and Soul outright laughs at his professors remark. After a moment or two of thought, watching his young student tinker around with the keys of the piano in the room with a much more relaxed air than usual, Law says: "I have noticed a change in you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. You're much more talkative now, and you're much more receptive to my advice than before. Could it be because the date of your concert is nearing?" Law inquires, but when a flash of boredom catches his eyes, he knows he's wrong and changes tactics: "Or could it be that the young Miss Maka Albarn has managed to thaw the hardest of hearts?"

"What?" Soul frowns, eying his teacher warily. "Stop talking like you're in the friggin' eighteenth century and spit it out already!"

Law huffs but says, "I _meant_ have you got a crush on the girl, Soul, honestly, it's not _that_ hard to understand!"

"A _crush_—? You gotta' be kidding me. Do I _look_ love-struck to you?" Soul spits back, glaring when his professor hums skeptically. "Shut up, I don't."

"Well, you _do _smile an awful lot when her name is brought up—!"

"I'm _not_." Soul hisses.

"Fret not, Soul, for the heart knows no bounds once it has been pierced by Cupids arrow—!"

"Get the hell out! I have to finish another line before I get out today!" Soul snaps, kicking out his music teacher before he can spout anymore nonsense. He leans against the door when his professor tries to enter again, shouting something about Soul needing to put those passionate emotions to good use and integrate them in his composition. His teacher could be totally uncool when he wanted to be, Soul breaths out and drops himself back on the piano bench. He knows he needs to finish at least another line in his composition before today ends but he doesn't quite know where to go now.

He's had a writers block for days and it's wearing on him. Not to mention he's been distracted by Maka's presence in his usually silent home. He likes prodding her from her book: she was always fun when she bristled like a cat. He also likes disturbing her from her homework, scaring her with horror movies at night, and taking samples of her cooking when she wasn't looking. He finds himself chuckling at the thoughts and then it dies in his throat. His eyes dart to the door, to where he can vaguely hear Justin Law practically sing to his students that they'd warm up with a simple song today.

Soul's elbows hit the keys flatly, fingers rubbing out his eyes.

_A crush on Maka, huh?_ He thinks wryly to himself, looking at his sloppily-written sheets. He never really thought about it that way. It makes it out like something superfluous and temporary when phrased like that and he doesn't like it. He thinks what he has towards Maka is, maybe, a little _more_ intense than that, with more conscious affection than blind infatuation.

But Law was onto something when he said to incorporate those stifled affections into his composition...

He wonders how that will disrupt the rather melancholic and taunting intro he already finalized. He toys with the idea, trying it out on the piano before him for a few minutes, and realizes something as he stops and quickly writes down the notes before he forgets him.

Maka may just be the inspiration he needs to finish this and finally earn his title as a member of the prestigious Evans family.

* * *

><p>Maka marches down the glossed halls of Shibusen with fire crackling in her eyes. She clutches her phone in her hand, a growl rising up her throat at the thought of Soul. He was so <em>dead<em> when she found him! He promised to be outside when she came out of school but it's been fifteen minutes and he still hadn't shown his face! She knew he was still in school because his motorcycle was parked out in the student parking lot but Maka had a lot of homework to finish and she _needed_ to study for a test! Not to mention she'll be late for her job at the cafe at this rate! _Meaning_ they needed to leave _now_, not two hours later!

"Soul!" Maka snarls, slamming the door to the music room open. "Soul, where are you?"

"Ah, Maka!" Law cheerfully greets, looking up from arranging a few books back into their crates. "What a pleasant surprise! He's in the room practicing right now."

"Still?" Maka gapes, in disbelief. "Ugh, why doesn't he just take that thing home with him!"

"If he did that, he'd never come to school." Law jokes, laughing when Maka cringes at the thought of missing school so much. "He has been in that room all day. He went out to excuse himself from his classes in the morning. I believe he's onto something and he does not want to lose that inspiration."

"Is that composition of his really that important?" Maka asks, exasperated. "What's it for, anyway?"

"He hasn't told you?" Law asks, curiously. His strange expression makes Maka lose some of her temper at her snowy-haired roommate. "He's working so hard on that composition because on Christmas Eve he will be playing in front of all of his family members to redeem himself."

"Redeem himself...?" Maka repeats softly, confused. She feels irritation replace with curiosity. "What do you mean by that? What did Soul do that's so bad he has to redeem himself by doing this?"

"Well," Law hums, thoughtful. "He neglected his studies at a young age. As you know, Soul's family is internationally known for their talent in music. There hasn't been a single son or daughter in the Evans family who hasn't been noted for their mastery in a certain instrument."

"So Soul…" Maka starts, as she pieces together what happened when he was younger. She doesn't comment but she didn't know that Soul came from such a famous lineage. Perhaps that's why he could afford so many things: his family was actually wealthy, like she had first thought. "Soul didn't learn like the others?"

"He neglected to learn any instrument properly when he was younger."

"What? But he – I've heard him play the guitar before! He's really good at it! He memorized a song I asked him to play once in half a day! Doesn't that count for anything?" Maka argues, unable to believe that someone whom she revered so much for his talent in all things music was considered mediocre in others eyes.

Law smiles, faintly. "Have you ever heard him play the piano?"

"Well, no..."

"He was horrible at first." Law states, reminiscing on those days. "I couldn't believe he was an Evans when he came to me. But he proved he does belong in that family. In just two months, he was already being grouped in my honors class, and a few weeks after that I began to privately tutor him because he was ahead of the class."

Maka smiles at that, feeling something similar to pride swell in her chest at the thought of her otherwise lazy roommate trying so hard. It's probably the hardest she'll ever seen him work for something, she inwardly thinks.

"The prestige of his family depends on the success of this concert," Law explains, sobering instantly. Maka's own smile falters. "If he fails… then he'll be the first Evans to ever be known as musically incompetent. It'll completely sully his families strong reputation, and likely cement his disownment from the family. He's already in danger of having his name stripped from him..."

Such a heavy expectation, Maka thinks to herself in concern, with so much responsibility being strapped onto his shoulders. She wishes she could help him somehow but knows she's pretty much useless. There isn't anything she can do but hope he won't slack off midway. After a few seconds of silence, both able to faintly hear the sounds of piano tabs being tapped from within the small room, Maka says: "He can do it." With more confidence, adds: "I know Soul can do it."

"I do, too." Law smiles, faithfully. "Especially since he might as well have finished it by now."

"How do you know he has?" Maka asks, curious.

"I have a feeling." Law smiles a secretive smile, clapping his hands and successfully distracting her from her thoughts. "Now, for what reasons have you come to seek Soul out? Could it be your heart _yearns_ to be close to his passionate visage?" He laughs boisterously when Maka pales and subsequently flushes red. "Ahah! Young love!"

"I'm leaving now, Mr. Law." Maka deadpans, turning away to hide her warm face from his mirthful eyes. "Tell Soul that I'll meet him at the house when he finishes and it's his turn to buy dinner."

"Of course – wait, _dinner? House?_" Law squawks, wide-eyed. But Maka has already left the room, heading down the hall and leaving the theatrical music teacher thoroughly floored with her revelation.

Later on that night, Soul would glare holes at Maka for leaving him to deal with the aftermath of such a huge statement.


	8. Chapter 8

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.08<br>**_fifteen, sixteen, maids a-kissing_

* * *

><p>"Have you seen him around lately?" Black Star asks, leaning on his broom while Soul sips his coffee casually. He spies Maka taking an order from a customer cheerfully by the register, not at all burdened by what they know. But Soul plans to keep these suspicions to himself – there was no need to alarm Maka of this if it was just smoke in the air.<p>

"No, you?"

"Nope."

"I thought I saw him down the street yesterday," Kid interjects, folding his rag into a neat triangle today. "But upon further inspection, it wasn't. Do you think he gave up searching for her?"

"Probably. I mean, Maka hardly did anything to the guy." Soul shrugs, glancing at her again. "What other reason does he have to look for her?"

"Beats me but it can't hurt to keep a look out!" Black Star says firmly, swinging the broom from hand to hand idly. "I mean, a god has to look after his followers, after all!"

"Just be sure not to lower your guard whenever you're around these parts." Kid cautions Soul. "Your mode of transportation isn't the most…inconspicuous."

"Inca-what?" Black Star squawks in confusion, then growls at Kid's defeated sigh. "Don't go using those heathen words around me! Speak English, dammit!"

"That _is _English, you idiot."

"Speak _my _English!"

"There's only _one_ English, Black Star, it's not my fault you haven't expanded your vocabulary!" Kid briskly says, and Soul rolls his eyes when Black Star explodes into a rant of epic proportions. He takes another drink of his coffee and grins when Maka turns to look at them, raising a brow at the two bickering boys. Amid the rowdy bickering and slowly setting sun, Soul thinks that he could be at home taking a nap on his couch than sitting here doing nothing. In all honesty, he didn't need to be here anymore.

He'd already finished his composition days ago, taking nearly three full days of furious writing and revision before he gazed upon the finished product with pride. After giving a private recital to Law to ensure his composition was worthy of a standing ovation, Soul had copied the draft onto better paper and slipped the pages into a fancier folder. He'd guarded that thing as if it were gold as well. He told Maka that if she even _tried_ to clean his room, he'd sabotage her bookcase and burn her school notes with gasoline. Needless to say, after arguing on whether or not his room should be cleaned by her, they both decided it's better off the way it is for now: however messy it sometimes became because of his own negligence.

"_Kid!_" Liz whines, storming over to him. "Can we go already? Your shift was over, like, half an hour ago! Patty's hungry and my feet are killing me. This is the last time I wear these heels!" Liz grumbles, shaking out a sore foot.

"I'll deal with you later," Kid glares at Black Star, who huffs and crosses his arms over his chest in defiance. Kid tosses Liz his keys and says: "You can relax in the car for now. Be sure to lock all the doors," he adds, as a precaution, and Liz nods happily and gestures her sister outside with a hand.

"Kid's such a dick." Black Star grumps.

"Whatever you say, man." Soul's lips curl into a devious grin. "But that's English for you."

"Dammit, Soul, not you, too!" Black Star cries, sending the grinning boy a searing look he dismisses with another swig of his coffee. Soon he's dryly giving Kid two uncool high-fives and waving goodbye at the sisters he could see from the window. Soul lifts himself up from his seat, coffee still held in his hand while Maka begins to close up as her own shift had ended as well.

"Be careful on your way home, Maka, Soul." Tsubaki softly bids farewell, smiling warmly at them both.

"Thanks, Tsubaki! And thanks for that recipe!" Maka beams, while Soul waits for her by the doors of the café with Black Star. "I can't wait to try it out today when I get home! I bet Soul's gonna' love it!" She waves at the girl and heads toward the two boys, leaving with Soul while Black Star takes over her spot in the register with a loud yawn.

"Soul, do we have tomato sauce at home?" Maka asks suddenly, pausing mid-way climbing behind the bike.

"Uh, yeah, like a whole new jar." Soul says, warily. "Why?"

"Because the new recipe Tsubaki gave me involves tomato sauce." She beams, like its completely cool to try out new recipes. He doesn't comment on the fact that his head hurts and she's too loud. He doesn't need her to make it worse with her karate chops.

"What'cha gonna' make?" He asks, curious.

"It's a surprise!" Maka giggles, placing a hand on his shoulder while he turned on his bike. "But you'll love it! It's Italian!" He's mildly impressed she remembered that he had a liking for Italian food. It was one of the things they both agreed upon, since he found out her revulsion for raw fish one night he'd brought home sushi for dinner.

"Pasta?" He guesses, coming up with nothing else. It was practically what he ordered when he ate out at Italian restaurants – there wasn't much else, really. He feels her reach around the back and stand up for a moment, sitting back down on the seat. He knows what she just did, and he just sighs when she shoves his helmet on his head.

"Nope!" She laughs, satisfied with his compliance.

"Man, this so uncool – you're supposed to be the one who wears this thing anyway!" Soul grumbles, taking it off and shaking out his head. Before she can protest, he twists around and places it on her own head. "If something happened to you, Kid'll kill me." Soul grins wryly. It had been Kid who'd shoved a helmet in his hand a day after he took Maka in. Soul mainly didn't buy one because they were ridiculously expensive, and because he deemed them uncool. But, apparently, Kid didn't care about being cool or not…and Soul would second that when it related to Maka. A motorcycle was far more dangerous than a car, and if something were to happen to them on the road, at least Maka had some chance of making it out with hopefully just a few scars.

Soul wouldn't mind taking the brunt of the hit for her.

"But what about you? I _always_ wear it…" Maka mumbles a little vexed, looking up at him with eyes that glowed with concern and guilt.

"Cool guys don't die so easily." He flashes her a cocky grin. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you ended up in the hospital 'cause you let me borrow the helmet. That's not cool." And he pushes off the ground and begins the drive back to their shared apartment, feeling her hand slide down his shoulder to his waist loosely.

She doesn't hold onto him anymore, to his dismay. She just grabs onto his side sometimes or shoulder if she was mad at him. She learned how to move with the bike now, not fearing turns as much as she did before. But he still wishes she hadn't grown used to riding a motorcycle so that she may use him as an anchor like before…

"Oh, shit." Soul swears, snapping his head forward instantly. He impatiently urges the light to change to green before _he_ notices them.

"What? What is it?" Maka asks, leaning over his shoulder curiously.

"Don't look now, but I think that's Giriko in that car…." Soul mutters dully, and Maka gasps when she realizes he isn't wrong. He's sprawled back in the drivers seat, his wrist hanging on top of the wheel lazily while he patiently waits for the light to change.

"That _is_ him!" Maka hisses. "I recognize that truck! And those ugly piercings on his face…"

"Alright, don't look at him. Maybe he won't notice you."

"But what about you? He has to remember you from that night – you have _white hair!"_ Maka points out fiercely, sparing looks at the thug who yawns sleepily in his car. At one point, he picks his nose, and Maka inwardly groans and looks away.

"Chill out, he hasn't noticed yet, has he? If you keep making a fuss, he will." Soul rolls his eyes at her, tapping his fingers on the handlebars as if they were discussing the weather. It annoys her: he overdid his cool sometimes. Would it hurt him to act a little more concerned? "Goddammit, what's up with this light? Why's it taking so long?"

Maka wraps her arm around his waist and rests her cheek on his back, turned away from Giriko and hoping he would not let his eyes wander over to them. Maybe he won't recognize her with the helmet on but surely he'll recognize Soul? She feels Soul tense and she tightens her hold on him, closing her eyes and praying Giriko was too high to remember that night clearly.

"Fuck," Soul mutters, turning away from a sharp-toothed but deadly grin thrown at his direction. "He recognized me."

"What about me?" Maka asks, hopeful he hadn't.

"Doesn't seem like it. That bastard keeps looking at _me_." Soul scowls. She feels Soul kick off the floor soon after, going rather fast as he continued his way home. She can hear the clamorous truck of Giriko gain on them, and could almost imagine his crooked grin as he locked his eyes on his next target.

"Is he still following us?"

"Yeah. Don't look." Soul commands, and Maka clenches her jaw at the thought of Giriko tailing them all the way to her new home. That would not only cause new complications, but Maka still didn't have enough money to rent an apartment for herself – much less pay for furniture and basic necessities all over again! But with a sharp turn, followed by a series of more turns that made Maka wonder where they're going now, Soul manages to shake Giriko off their tail.

Maka looks over her shoulder, not seeing the truck with red chipping paint and a cracked windshield anywhere in sight. "I think we lost him!"

"I wouldn't get my hopes up yet," Soul says but after a few minutes of driving, Maka determines that they had successfully shaken Giriko off their tail. When she peers over his shoulder curiously, asking him when they would be able to arrive home, Soul merely hums a reply and continues with his mindlessly riding until they near the freeway. That's when she realizes he was going take the extremely long way home, and her stomach growls with a vengeance as Soul pauses on a red light.

"Hey, pass me my goggles. They're in the pack." Soul jabs a thumb behind him, to the leather pack strapped to the side of the bike securely. After struggling with the clasps and digging around inside, Maka comes up with a pair of gray goggles. Soul wastes no time adjusting them over his eyes, shaking his unruly silver hair to fall over the hard glass of the goggles coolly.

"How come you don't wear those?" Maka asks, curiously.

"I usually slide the visor down my helmet," Soul answers, waiting for the light to change. "But since you're wearing it, I deal with these. This was the first protective gear I bought when I got my bike." He reveals after a seconds hesitation and before she could comment, he pushes off the floor and makes his way down the ramp to the empty freeway.

* * *

><p>They made it home safely; as in, without being tailed by Giriko. Although Maka noticed Soul had parked his bike quite far from the building they're both living in, she pretends it's because there isn't any parking space in front of the building. The walk inside is swathed in comfortable conversation, resulting in Soul receiving her deathly looks when he became cheeky with her. Despite the normal flow of interaction between them, it can't fully take care of the high tensions that coils their muscles and makes them jumpy.<p>

Soul still peeks out the window for any signs of him.

She checks her phone more often than normal, awaiting any signs that he's been spotted by the cafe.

The ear-splitting ring of the phone is what snaps them out of their paranoid search. Maka shouts for him to pick it up and Soul shakes himself out of his trepidation to reach the phone.

"I got it! Jeez," Soul scoffs, lifting the phone from the receiver. For a second, he doesn't say anything, taking a bracing breath: "Hello?"

"_Nya! Who is this, your voice is so sexy! Teehee!"_

"…." Soul stares at the phone for a minute before hanging up. That was _certainly_ not what he was expecting, but at least it wasn't Giriko threatening to chop off his dick or something. He's on his way back to the couch, shrugging away that completely disturbing comment from that woman, when the phone rings again. When Maka shouts at him to pick it up before she did something about it, Soul grumbles and picks it up again, growling out: "Hello?"

"_Nya, you're so mean—No, wait, don't hang up! Is Maka-nya there?" _The woman quickly asks when she hears the person on the other line scoff.

"Maka?" Soul repeats, confused. He glances toward the arch to the kitchen, able to catch snippets of her humming. "And you would be…?" He raises a brow, Giriko coming to the forefront of his mind again. If this was some sort of way to pinpoint her location, he would not give anything away and hang up again.

"_Blair!" _She chirps, happily.

Soul is thrown into a loop for a moment. Then it all makes sense: this woman's seductive comment, her airy words and teasing edge to her words. This woman was a master at sex and all that was involved in it. It was no wonder she greeted him like that; Soul vaguely wondered just what type of person Maka would grow up to be if she had hung around this Blair woman for a few more years…

He ignores his wicked glee at the thought of a perverse Maka to say, "Oh. Yeah. She's here." Before he can inhale enough to shout her name in that way that completely rankled her, Blair says:

"_Oh, so you must be the Soul my little kitty has a little crush on!"_

"Wait, what?" Soul backtracks, suddenly very interested in what this woman has to say. The fact that this woman has somehow managed to get his house phone goes over his head with that tidbit of information. Maka? Crush? On him? A sly grin crawls on his face, "She has a _what_ on me?"

"_Nya, so you are Soul! Maka's told me a lot about you, y'know." _Her voice grows sly, edging to a purr, and Soul can see why they compared her to cat: she is sly like one, conniving like one, too. He can safely assume she's conceited like one as well. "_Like how sexy you are with that voice—!"_

"As if Maka would ever say something like that." Soul deadpans, convinced this woman has some sort of fixation with his voice. He frowns at the thought. His eyes dart to the kitchen arch way where he's noticed that the clatter of pans and spoons and forks has lowered and her humming has disappeared. "How'd you get this number? Maka told me she never gave you any contact information when you left."

"_I have my ways." _She giggles back. "_You're no fun. Leave it to Maka to find someone so serious! Nya, she makes so proud, my little kitty! But don't be too serious, now, Maka-nya needs her fun! And you better be fun, Soul-nya, show her the ropes of the game. She likes it when you rub her waist slowly—hahaha!" _Blair laughs lewdly when she hears the boy choke on the other line, strangle out something resembling her charges name and practically handing off the phone to his roommate while the scarlet color in his face and the dirty thoughts in his mind slowly desist but not quite.

"Who is it?" Maka hisses at Soul, whose holding a hand under his nose and looking desperately awkward. "Soul? Ugh!" Maka drops her hand from the mic and says, "Hello, Maka Albarn speaking."

"_Maka! Blair is so happy to hear you!"_

Soul is grumbling to himself about shameless women and stupid Maka's when he hears Maka squeal Blair's name out. The way her eyes brighten, like diamonds, stun him for a second. They glitter with an obscene amount of glee. It makes him feel strange. Her voice has barely-contained joy, her laughter genuine and loud. It makes him feel subpar. The way her demeanor does a complete one eighty startles him, and he's mystified when she prattles on and on about how her life has gone; what she has done thus far; how school is; how her job is going; where she's living now; how he can't pick up his socks off the floor and how he leaves a mess behind wherever he treads...

He chuckles to himself for a moment. She truly looks delighted talking to her paternal-figure.

But there's something about the way she talks to her – so freely and sincerely – that bothers him. She's never spoken to him so openly in all the time he's known her. She's never had that joyous, glinting, sparkle in her eyes; never seemed so attentive at what he has to say, never seemed so excited, either. Perhaps it's because she thought Blair had left her life forever. Maybe that's why she's so passionate. It's a normal reaction, Soul rationalizes to himself, if he had someone whom he was close to, of course he would be excited to be reunited with them – even if it was by phone.

But his reaction but be a lot cooler, Soul continues to muse. His eyes watch as Maka leans against the wall, that mega-watt smile brightening up her entire visage. So delighted, so beautiful. Why can't she smile like that all the time? Is it just Blair that can make her smile like this, without inhabitations? Without thinking her smile is goofy, without thinking at all…?

He rubs the back of his neck as habit forces him to, dropping his eyes to the remote control. He changes the channels idly while Maka talks, eventually walking back to the kitchen to check on the food she's making. It's beginning to smell really good and his stomach gives a low growl. He rubs his stomach absently while she continues to talk, that tinkling laughter floating through their apartment like music.

Soul settles on a music channel.

Smooth jazz.

He can't help but think how well her voice goes with the tunes. He takes a few moments to savor this sense of domesticity; this sense of family. His apartment is clean, she's cooking something delicious, her laughter is contagious and her grin even more so. He thinks back to what Blair let slip none-too-subtly.

_A crush, huh? _he quirks a smile, unable to deny that pleased tightening in his chest at the thought.

"Soul!" Maka sings, sliding to a stop under the arch way of the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!" She beams at him, those gem eyes of her eyes glowing with warmth.

"Cool," he pulls on a half-grin, tossing the control on the cushions of the couch and making his way to the dinner table where she had laid out something that looks completely Italian. The names goes over his head as he stares, suddenly aware of his ravenous hunger, and he digs in the instant he has a fork in his hand.

"Do you like it?" Maka asks, hopefully.

"This is _great!_" He shouts through a mouthful of food. "You make it better than the chiefs at my 'rents place!" He stuffs another spoonful into his mouth, glad he has the excuse to chew thoroughly when she blinks and says she didn't know he had personal chiefs.

"Yeah, they're… cool." Soul shrugs, careful to avoid her inquisitive gaze while he eats. "But I like your stuff better. It tastes way better than theirs."

"Well, that makes me really happy!" Maka claps her hands together, glad she managed to get the recipe down right. "I can cook better than the cooks at your families estate!" She jokes around but suddenly the air has grown cold.

Soul lifts his eyes to her, and she feels her smile falter. "How do you know that?"

"Well, I-I just assumed." Maka stammers and knows she is not fooling him when his eyes narrow. "Ah, Mr. Law mentioned something about that…"

"Justin." Soul snorts, derisively. He drops his fork. "Figures he'd be the one to spill everything to you."

Maka frowns. "Which reminds me, Soul… you never told me you were going to play your composition at your families Christmas party!" She scowls further when he swears softly – but not softly enough – under his breath. "What was that? Look, I understand not wanting to tell me because it's private, but you could've at least told me what it was for!" She looks a little hurt. "You always ignored me when I asked, it couldn't hurt to just tell me what it was for. I wouldn't have pried!"

"I just didn't wanna' tell you." Soul darkly says. "It's my business what that composition is for, I didn't wanna' drag you into unnecessary things."

"It wouldn't have been unnecessary!" Maka stubbornly says. "I could have helped you!"

Soul deadpans a look at her.

She bristles. "Or cheered you on! The point is I could have helped you someway!"

"No, thanks, I'll pass." Soul snorts, shaking his head at the thought of Maka urging him on from behind with a wide smile and pompoms while he concentrated on his work. It was a good thing he finished it! That mental image was scarring. "Besides, it's done. All I need to do is look over it a bit."

"It's done?" Maka perks up, hopefully. "Can I hear it?"

"No."

Maka recoils at his hard tone, slightly hurt at being rejected so easily, but tries once more before she's silenced by his narrowed-eyed look. After a second, it falters and he sighs heavily. He drops his napkin on his dish. He's finished dinner but looks like he won't ask for seconds tonight.

"Not yet." He compromises to ease his guilt at his own snap, tapping his fork on his plate. The _click-click _noise helps soothe his nerves. There's no way she could hear what he wrote; absolutely no way. It was too embarrassing, to have to tell her or have her figure out that all of those fluctuating emotions were inspired by her and her alone. It certainly wasn't cool, to have her find out like that. It'd make his cool burst into flames at the thought of needing to explain himself. "I'll let you hear it… one day."

For a moment, he thinks she'll ask when. He thinks she'll be stubborn, arrange a date for him to play, and thus provoke another argument between them. Maybe he'll be going to sleep pissed tonight again.

But all she says is, "Okay" and smiles a weary sort of smile of defeat.

And then he realizes why she doesn't smile as brightly, as warmly, as _comfortably_, at him like she does with Blair.

It's because he's always pushing her away.

And he hates it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.09<br>**_seventeen, eighteen maids a-waiting…_

* * *

><p>He's been acting strange - ever since Thanksgiving day nearly two weeks ago, after she had cooked up that wonderful meal and all of their friends had come over for the feast. She honestly thought the Thanksgiving party had been successful but every time she looked over at Soul, there was something strange in the way he gazed forward listlessly; in thought, sometimes blankly. Whenever he looked at her, there as a sort of calculative scrutiny; as if he couldn't figure something out, as if he couldn't decide on something or not.<p>

It was un-Soul like.

Almost foreign, if he didn't cover up his strange actions with snarky snaps.

She watches him from the corner of her eye as she pretends to read. He's sprawled on the couch, legs stretched out so his feet rest on the crystal coffee table. She refrains from bagging on him for that when he shifts, sinking further into the cushions. Tufts of hair fall over his closed eyes, soft snores escaping him with every deep breath.

He hasn't been getting too much sleep recently. She knows this because she hears him wandering their apartment late at night. Sometimes it stays silent but when she jolts awake again, he's making a fuss in the living room once more. It annoyed her at first – she needs her sleep lest she nod off in class! – but now she's concerned.

What's keeping him up at night? Why can't he sleep like he used to? Soul was notorious for taking fifteen hour 'naps'. He treasured sleep just like he treasured food and for him to be sacrificing it for one reason or another bothered her. He always stuck around to listen to her grief, why should she not do the same? Then she remembers why: because he feels uncomfortable with such bearings of the heart. It's completely cool if its her doing the crying but when the spotlight shifts to him, he freezes up and turns away instantly; a recoil that still hurts her feelings sometimes.

She doesn't want to just sit there, watching him bear it alone. She wants to help. She wants to halve his worries. But she can't, because prying into a persons privacy has never been something she condoned and Soul was a very guarded and vulnerable person. She needed to be careful, take baby-steps, before she could have what she wanted.

But maybe he was already ahead of her, Maka thinks thoughtfully, remembering his little more than strange actions as of late.

He opens doors for her now.

He carries her books when she asks him to, not just ridiculing her for her bookworm ways, and he doesn't seem to mind it, either!

He's toned down the jabs at her – he's even _complimented_ her more than once. The compliments are the ones that take her by surprise. She's sure she wears a funny face when he does it because he stills and immediately covers up his soft remark with something that usually earns him a chop on his head.

This tip in his attitude befuddled her at first. Just what was he trying to prove by being relatively nice to her? Given, he could still be a dick when he wanted, but he had become far softer than she ever anticipated. It made her feel weird. She didn't know how she felt about that – seeing him smile at her, pat her head, even take her hand when she felt uneasy.

She'd felt scared only once. They had been walking down the street, heading over to a nearby fast-food place for some burgers late at night, and a burst of laughter had frozen her. She recognized that laugh – so airy, so gruff and hoarse – and Arisa had appeared first, draped over Giriko's arm. She giggled excessively, obviously playing her part in this charade, while he boasted about himself. She had come to a rigid halt, Soul following, and before she could stare at them any longer, Soul had taken her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze, and pulled her in front of him and led her forward by the small of her back without a word. They had gone out for tacos that day, something Soul regretted the next day.

"AH – _shit! _What the hell?" Soul jolts awake, startling her to drop her book. Soul notices and scowls, cursing under his breath and digging into his pocket for his cellphone. He glares at the device that disturbed his sleep and takes the call, snapping something nasty at the laughing boy on the other line.

Maka picks up the book with trembling fingers. She knows it was ridiculous to feel like she has been caught red-handed. It wasn't so bad, thinking about him so much, was it? She's intrigued by him. He was a mystery wrapped in silk; a case that needed to be cracked. Besides, she was worried about him. He was acting weird, that was a reason to think about him so much, right? She was looking after him just like he always looked after her. She was returning the favour, Maka clears her throat, but she can still feel her heart drum in her bosom and her face heat as if she'd been standing under the full-brunt of the sun.

"That fucking idiot," Soul mutters a few minutes later, startling her slightly. He arches a brow at her flinch. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing – what did he want?"

"He asked if we wanted to go watch a movie with him and Tsubaki in an hour. You wanna' go?" Soul asks, stretching his arms over his head until he cracks his back with satisfaction. Her eyes dart down to the shirt that lifts, exposing an ample amount of his flat abdomen. They linger for a second before she darts them away, scolding herself for such a male-like gesture. Either her father had had an influence in her after all or Liz's inappropriate habits have finally cracked through her rough exterior.

"Sure, I finished my homework already. I'm free for the evening." She smiles, twisting her hands in her lap when he fixes her with a penetrating look. She shifts a bit, reaching up to scratch her cheek as nervous habit told her to. What was he looking at her for like that, so intently? It made her feel all awkward and unsure of herself. "What?"

"Did I miss something while I was asleep?" Soul asks and she tenses. "You're all…stiff. Stiffer than usual."

"I am not." Maka jerks herself up. She slips the book under her arm, careful to avoid his scrutinizing eyes. She could feel her face warm at the attention – reaching a dangerous tone of red. Anymore of this and she'll put a tomato to shame. "I-I was just thinking about the exam this Friday. It's worth a lot of points and I don't understand some of the material…"

"For what class?"

"Ah – um – Calculus!" Maka blurts, hiding her cringe behind a cough. She's making herself so obvious – he doesn't believe it. She can feel it in his gaze: blank, analytical, clinical. She's not fooling him and this embarrasses her. This is what she gets for thinking about him so much, for looking at him like her papa looks at his next potential girlfriend, and the sheer thoughts pales her face. Just what was she _doing?_ How horrible! Soul wasn't someone she'd ever toy with so cruelly like her papa did with other women!

Soul was someone special.

Soul – he was _special_, Maka echoes in her thoughts, excusing herself to her room. She didn't know how special but he _was_ special – he dominated over all her other friends. Maybe it was because they roomed together now, but Maka likes to think it happened long before this. Maybe that day he sighed and slid next to her, bumping his shoulder to hers, making her breath hitch, and he taught her the material for her instruments class with an infinite amount of patience. Maybe that day had changed things for the better.

But what made them into what is now, Maka sighs, something awkward and unsure had been that single gesture – taking her hand, guiding her back to Kid's car, reassuring her with slight squeezes. That day had been the day, Maka thinks as she slips on a sweater. She guesses that's when she started seeing him a different light – someone special like Blair had been to her. Maybe he took her place although Maka recoils at the thought, if only because Blair cannot be replaced so easily. She doesn't want to think she replaced Blair but that's what it's starting to seem like…

Blair must have anticipated this, at one point. _She_ was at fault for many of the angle switches that have been happening regarding Soul. She spoke to her on the phone more often now and Blair was always worming ideas that should never be entertained in her mind.

"_Mm, Soul has a sexy voice, huh?" Blair had hummed, and Maka could almost see her curling grin as she choked on her saliva. "He sounds really cute, Maka, you lucky girl! You work fast—hahaha, don't yell at Blair, Maka-nya, you know she' s teasing!"_

"Blair…" Maka sighs resignedly. Even so far away, she was still wrecking havoc.

"Yo, Maka, you ready?" Soul knocked on her door a few times.

"Yeah! I'm coming!" Maka shouts, hastily doing her hair. The door swings open silently behind her as she bends down to pick up the band she dropped in her haste. She stuffs it between her teeth, looking up into the mirror to find Soul standing by her bed with his hands jammed in his pockets as per usual. "When does the movie start?"

"Eight. We still have time." Soul glances at the alarm clock on her nightstand. He watches her tie one part of her hair up, tightening it, before frowning and releasing it. She's about to comb through it to start over again when he moves toward her and plucks the hairband from her mouth. He tosses it on her vanity. "Leave it down."

"Why?" Maka frowns, reaching over to grab the hairband. "I always wear it up!"

"It looks nice down." Soul smiles, his eyes narrowing a fraction when she jumps and becomes that awkward girl he saw in the living room. He watches her mumble out something before combing her hair thoroughly again and, as if to compensate, ties her hair into low pigtails – as close to leaving her hair down in public as she'll get.

"Y…you ready?" Maka asks, timidly.

He holds her eyes for a second – taking in her pink cheeks, her fidgeting hands, her wobbly smile - before he looks away, giving her his back while a big grin stretched his lips. There was one way to confirm his suspicions and he inwardly thanked Black Star for this opportunity.

"Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

><p>Black Star can't shut up no matter what.<p>

It was an unspoken rule – even in the dark of the theater, seated towards the middle with a bucket of popcorn on her lap and a bottle of soda in the cup-holder, the movie rolling on screen – Black Star somehow managed to be loud. Be it the way he chewed on the popcorn – so noisy, with an emphasized _crunch_ – or the way he slurped his drink or the way he _always _had something to say when something cool happened on screen, Black Star couldn't take the hint that his commentary was _not_ welcomed.

"I can't take this anymore!" Maka hisses, nearly crushing her cup in her hand. Beside her, Soul raises a brow when she begins to pack up her things.

"Where are you going?" He asks, as Maka tries to wiggle her way to the aisle. He sighs and grabs his cup of soda and stands, allowing her to pass, but follows her as Black Star cracks up at something that happened on screen. He catches Tsubaki leaning in her seat, likely looking guilty and apologetic.

"Away from that idiot! I can't concentrate on the movie if he's being so loud!" Maka grumbles, finding a seat several rows down and plopping down. Soul takes the seat beside her, placing his drink in the cup-holder again and watching Maka balance her bucket of popcorn on the armrest while she adjusted her cup in its own holder.

Soul takes the bucket for a moment, wondering how he was going to do this. He needed to be smooth and cool, he thinks to himself, smooth and cool like the jazz he listens to every night before sleep. His eyes stray down to the armrest between them. She had placed her cup in the opposite cup-holder, leaving this one free of anything. All he needed to do was lift it up, he thinks with a quick breath, and then what? He hadn't thought that far ahead yet.

"We should have seen that other movie," Soul mumbles, sinking in his seat as he resigns himself to an uneventful evening. His plans will be put on hold for another time. There was simply too many factors going against him at the moment – he was not about to risk himself like this, ruin his chance so quickly. He thinks about how he's putting so much effort into this and groans silently. He guesses her stubborn and perfectionist ways rubbed off on him a little.

"Which one?"

"The action one – this one is plain sad. It isn't even scary." Soul yawns, watching the woman on screen hide from the killer. Typical. Of course she shrieks at the slightest noise and gives away her location. "The other one would've been better."

"Tsubaki looks pretty scared." Maka offers, glancing over her shoulder to see the girl staring at the screen with wide-eyes. She was chewing on her thumbnail, muscles tense as the woman on screen bolted away from the murderer with a bloodcurdling screen. "She's never liked horror movies. She always gets nightmares…"

"Now it all makes sense." Soul snorts, and Maka tosses him a curious look. Soul sighs at her expectant look. "He wants her to cling onto him, why else would he insist on watching this one? He doesn't even like horror. Action is better. Explosions make everything cool," Soul grins a little.

"So _that's_ why he wanted to see this movie so badly!" Maka scowls suddenly. "That little creep! He's lucky Tsubaki likes him… she'll probably let him if he can shut up for a few minutes."

"They've gone on a bunch of dates. If they aren't together yet then that's another thing Black Star can't do right," Soul sardonically says, still a little sore from their last argument down in the lobby – when Maka and Tsubaki had gone ahead to buy snacks. It hadn't been an argument so much as it had been Black Star pushing him to make a move on Maka. As if he didn't already know _that_, Soul thinks darkly, but it was a little hard to make a move on a person who you are just starting to feel comfortable with.

Because Soul doesn't like such intimacy – the foreignness of it unnerves him. He hasn't had such close relationships before, not even with his mother or father. Perhaps his brother, but those days have long since past. He can't remember what it feels like to hold someone's hand and feel reassured. He can't remember what it feels like to have someone you can always rely on. And Maka is changing that, drastically. She's bringing back old muscle memory.

She's bringing back some semblance of happiness that he'd thought he'd lost when his brother left to pursue his goals.

"Well, I think he's doing a pretty good job. Just look." Maka points out and Soul does, briefly, shaking his head as he caught glimpse of Black Star's arm wrapped around Tsubaki's shoulders. He was sure he caught a hint of a triumphant grin, too. That idiot.

"We could've done this at my place – and I would've chosen a horror movie that _actually_ lives up to its name." Soul says, broodingly. "This crap is pissing me off."

"It's not that bad. At least the acting is good," Maka offers, and rests her elbow on the armrest. Their shoulders touch and, after a few moments, both reflexively lean onto one another for support. Soon, Maka has her full-weight on his shoulder and he is doing the same. "And the special effects don't look fake."

"This is a rip-off of Bloody Valentine." Soul mumbles, and sighs deeply as his head bumps back on the cushioned seat. For a second, they're silent, watching another guy grab an axe and stalk into the house with cruel intentions. Then Maka's cheek softly bumps against his shoulder and he allow his to rest against her soft ash-blonde hair. And before he can shift and rest against her more easily, perhaps even lift the armrest and be one step closer to remembering that warmth he had long-since forgotten from his childhood, Black Star's obnoxious laughs ring out from behind them.

"Remind me to tell 'Star no the next time he invites us to a movie – I can hear him from all the way over here."

"Ugh, where's my book when I need it…" Maka glowers, crossing her arms over her chest. Soul takes out the arm trapped between them and rests his hand on her head, softly ruffling her hair.

"Get him back when I'm not in the room. I don't wanna' get involved," he absently says, taking a few silk strands of hair between his fingers. His arm is twisted awkwardly and she's pushed forward uncomfortably, and that's when his packaged plans for the evening come alive – when she shifts, lifting the arm rest, and fits against the hollow under his arm all in under four seconds. His hand drops her strands of hair, and he drapes his arm over her shoulder comfortably; pulling her closer to him, swallowing down the thunderous beat of his heart as the movie rolls undisturbed before them.

Done.

He did it.

Phase 1, _complete_.

She's cuddled comfortably under his arm. She's practically _snuggled_ against him! Maybe she'd caught onto his subtle advances or maybe she'd just seized the opportunity when it presented itself– regardless of whose victory this really was, he's still smug. Because when he rests his cheek against her head, enveloping her warmly with his arm, he catches each and every shaky breath and swallow and nervous fidget.

And he thinks to himself: this is step one to getting back that rhythm of familiarity. This was another chord on the staff he needed to memorize. He doesn't mind it, either. It's not some boring lecture or some tedious rehearsal – this was monumental. This changed everything, and for once he accepts this new shift in dynamics with open arms.

Simply because he could get used to the feeling of her cheek burying in his chest and her heart thrumming at the tempo of a humming birds heart.

* * *

><p>This woman is going to be the death of him.<p>

"Whiskey? Are you seriously going to buy me_ whiskey?_" She spits out with venom in her words. She crosses a shapely leg over the other, leaning back in the bar stool while Giriko mentally picks up the broken pieces of his manhood off the floor. He has only known her for two hours yet he already knows that this woman is fierce, unfaltering and unforgiving, and more high maintenance than he had ever anticipated she would be. But what gave him _that_ stupid-ass idea, Giriko berates himself, she practically _exudes _spoiled! Rotten, malicious, as cunning as a fox and as dangerous as a black widow.

He should really just stop now while he's ahead and go pick himself up a whore to keep him warm for the night. That's what his head tells him, but his _other_ head has other, much more pleasing, ideas.

She has ebony hair that falls down her porcelain shoulder in rich ringlets, with lazy eyes an equally vibrant shade of black that seem to burn through him with every breath he takes. The slinky dress is modestly sexy, doing well in emphasizing her curvaceous frame and full chest. She's a beautiful woman, with full lips tainted a dark rogue and a sharp tongue to match. He doesn't even know how someone as fucked up as him managed to snag her attention but he does know that he is not going to mess this up.

He at least wants to fuck her a few times before he does.

Or not, Giriko thinks absently as he waves over the bartender and orders the finest champagne they have. This pleases her, for her coldly detached gaze warms and she leans over to him. She laces her fingers underneath her chin and Giriko has a hard time looking away from the generous amount of cleavage she shows as if to reward him for his hard thinking.

"That's better," she purrs, and when she smiles he swears that his heart has exploded in his chest. He can almost taste the blood in his throat. "Giriko, was it? Tell me, what's all of _that_ about! It's quite intriguing." She gestures to his face, and he raises a hand to touch one of his many piercings. Suddenly, they don't seem so badass. He wants to tear them all off and stash them under his mattress where all his porn magazines are. And, very abruptly, he wants to throw _those_ out and burn them and replace them with pictures of this gorgeous woman sitting before him so calmly, like a goddess upon her throne.

"These? Just relics of a time when I could do whatever the fuck I wanted." Giriko says, casting a cold glance at the bartender as he delivers their order. He takes a careless swing of the fancy flute glass while hers is more cultured, more thoughtful.

"I take it you can no longer do that?" She asks, in that softly deceptive voice of hers. He gives her a five second look that ends up with him snorting laughter and taking another swing of his champagne. It's coming out of his wallet, it better get him as smashed as he wants it to.

"No, I just needa' finish one last job, that's all. Then I'll take a break, maybe get outta' town."

"Job?" She purrs, leaning closer to him. "What kind of job?"

He takes another swing. He notices she's holding out her glass for him and he takes it, grinning as he takes another swing. Her smile is sultry, filthy. He loves it. "Gotta' get rid of some whore who crossed the line with me. You don't mess with me and get away with it, babe." He growls lightly, and the corners of her eyes crinkle with her smile. But there's something unnerving about her smile. The shadows seem to come alive from the corner of the cabaret and enshroud her in black.

"Who is this woman who has so crossed you, Giriko?"

"You probably know her if you've been here long enough," Giriko says, snidely. "She fucked about every guy in this rotten city! Names Blair. Y'know, purple hair, yellow eyes, total bitch." Giriko grins around the edge of the glass at her wide eyes. "Yeah, told you you'd know 'er. That bitch did something she wasn't supposed to and now she's got a hit on her head courtesy of me. Not only that, but she made some other slut run away from me. I'm still lookin' for that smart ass little cunt..." He grumbles, nearly crushing the glass in his hand at the thought of Maka Albarn.

"Blair, hmm? Don't tell me you're actually wasting your time on _her_, dear." She scoffs, and he tenses. "I wouldn't bother with her, if I were you. It's too much of a hassle chasing after some alley cat who has nothing going for her but her reputation." She loftily laughs, shaking her head and combing her nails through her black locks haughtily. "And that other girl, I'm assumming you're speaking about the little girl who Blair always cared for...?"

"Maka Albarn?" Giriko offers.

"Yes, her. Maka. Such a sweet girl," she muses. "She baked me a tray of cookies once."

"You _know_ her?" Girki nearly spits out his drink at that. This could be a problem.

"Of course I do. She visits me regularly," she plasters on a mock-sweet smile that chills him. He doesn't question why this irrational fear of this woman turns him on. Maybe he's more fucked than he thought he was or maybe this champagne is really hitting the spot. "I would not want..." she begins, innocently, "..anything _bad _to befall the girl, lord forbid."

Giriko is lost for words. He was thinking about placing a hit on the smart little cunt for trying to evade him. He has no clue where she is at the moment. He has been banned from the cafe so he can no longer spy on her there. He has absolutely no idea where she is living at, _who_ she is living with. The only clue he had was that white-haired punk with the motorcycle. That day he had seen him, he noticed a girl hanging off his back on the bike. He had reason to believe that was Maka but he had lost sight of them midway on the road. Giriko had gone around circles looking for that bike but came up empty. He gave up shortly after that, figuring placing a hit would solve all of his troubles...

"You actually like that smart-ass?"

"She's very sweet and has an innocence I do not see very often," she drawls, running a few fingers through her hair again. She smiles darkly when Giriko's eyes follow the motion of her slim arm faithfully. "Although Blair and I have spoken once or twice, I could care less about what happens to her. I do appreciate her catering to Maka... although I still think I could have done a better job." She purses her lips at that, souring the slightest bit, before regaining that coolly detached interest. "But you can't have everything in life, no?"

"Got that right." Giriko snorts, gazing down at the marble table. He can catch fragments of her lips, her sultry gaze, her high cheek bones and smooth, alabaster, skin. She's so damn gorgeous it's enough for him to gouge his eyeballs out with a damn fork. He doesn't understand how such a beautiful woman could exist. He doesn't think he ever will. She's got him cupped by the balls and she's enjoying every second of dominance. "Guess I can, y'know, give 'er a break." He roughly says, not meeting her gaze but instead staring ahead and taking another swing of the drink. The bartender comes and picks up the glasses, replacing them and scurrying away soon after.

"That would be darling," she laughs, and the laugh sends heat straight down to his loins. He doesn't understand the effect she has on him but he does know that he's never wanted to touch a woman so badly as now. And he has reason to believe she _knows_, because she coquettishly brings out a Japanese fan and spreads it, fanning herself with a smug little grin on her lips.

"You wanna' get outta' here?" He suddenly asks, and she cocks her head mock-innocent. "It's gettin' late and crowded. I hate being in crowded places."

"Would you look at that? So do I." She smiles, sensually. He can't get enough of that little smile, those eyes that behold thousands of secrets.

"Is that a yes?"

"Hmm..." She hums, and he watches her slide down the bar stool. The dress rides up her thighs, revealing pale skin that calls for him. He's mindful to snap his eyes back up to hers before she takes notice but he can almost see her curling grin behind the fan as she gestures for him. He doesn't even bother finishing his drink - something that's never happened before - and he follows behind her without another word.

"Oh, Giriko?" She asks suddenly, turning back. "Could you go fetch my brooch for me, darling? I left it on the table."

"What? Oh, yeah, sure." He shrugs, turning back to the table. She watches him leave with that same detachment and she reaches into her cleavage to pull out a sleek phone. She only presses a few buttons, placing the phone against her ear and waiting. She smiles in satisfaction at who picks up on the first ring. "I expect my payment to be deposited in my bank account by tomorrow morning, no later than eleven my time." She curls a lock of hair around her finger, never removing her eyes from Giriko as he saunters back to her holding her hair accessory in his hand.

"Oh, of course, darling." She says in goodbye. Her husky voice darkens as she says: "But be aware my debt to you has been cleared. I owe you no more, Blair... yes, of course, I'm sure you're busy. I hope the next time you pay a visit to the doctor he diagnoses you with AIDS." She sweetly says, and laughs that melodious and dark laugh of hers as Blair hopes she burns in the depths of hell with her wretched insects. "There is a reason they call me _Arachne_, you bitch." She hangs up swiftly, jaw set as she slips the phone back between her breasts.

"What was that all about? You look pissed." Giriko arches a brow.

"Oh, nothing. I just got a call from the salon saying I'd need to reschedule. How rude, to move me down the list for another person." Arachne lies with a soft whine in her words. "It's quite cold outside..." She looks at him expectantly.

He falters.

What was he supposed to do again? Oh, yeah, he see's it happen all the time in the movies.

"Uh, wanna' borrow my coat?"

"How very kind of you," she nods, pleased with his obedience. She takes his coat without another word, placing it over her shoulders. For a second, Giriko thinks she's going to just leave him there standing like an idiot in the middle of the sidewalk before she turns back and raises an elegant brow.

"Are you coming or not?" The way she smiles makes him nearly pop a boner right then and there. All thoughts of Maka Albarn and Blair are pushed to the deepest recesses of his mind, just as Arachne had planned it to be.


	10. Chapter 10

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.10<br>**_Nineteen, twenty, my plate's empty_

* * *

><p>The stage is hot, as if a magnifying glass has been placed beneath a bright lamp and the pin-point of light is aimed directly at him. He pulls on his collar, able to feel an exhale of heat rise from underneath his shirt like the heat waves on the pavement. His blazer is heavy and black, his shirt starch stiff and rigid. His pants feel as if they were made of the most uncomfortable material known to man and his feet are beginning to hurt from the hard soles of his dress shoes. He doesn't remember the last time he has been fitted in such a fancy suit, but he knows that he does not miss it one bit as he approaches the grand piano sitting dauntingly under the spotlight.<p>

The guests mingling in the ballroom, by the snack tables, by the open balconies, watch passionlessly as he turns to face them for a moment. His eyes seek out his parents, who he finds standing somewhere by the side silently. He can tell they're not expecting much just by the way his father looks blank and his mother continues to purse her lips and shift her weight; as if impatient that this is taking so long.

His brother, he knows, is standing somewhere in the swarm of guests. He is not bothering to pay much attention to him. He'll be the first to snort, but not laugh – no, not outright laugh.

That wouldn't be appropriate in such a setting, Soul thinks bitterly.

"Soul, have you gathered your thoughts yet?" Justin Law asks patiently, smiling vaguely at him from just outside the rim of the light. He is the only one who looks confident in his skill and the only one who has spoken to him because he _wants_ to; not because the occasion calls for it. He's grateful for that small amount of support. He glances back out to the crowd and wonders, with a pang, if he had invited Maka to his recital after all, she would be standing there, watching him with those compassionate eyes of her, wearing that soft smile that always endeared him.

"Yeah. Let's do this," Soul says, glancing down at the black and white teeth of the piano. His eyes shift to his composition, neatly stacked so he could easily refer to it should he become uncertain. Because now he's having doubts about its competency; _his _skill. If it turns out to be a bust, he could very well ruin his own chance at redeeming his name. Perhaps it would have been wiser to memorize a song from another composer instead of trying his hand at the process. But that just wouldn't be his style, Soul muses with some annoyance. He takes seat on the piano bench and shakes out his hands.

What's life without a little risk? His eyes are darting back to the murmuring crowd.

_Risk, _he hummed to himself, making a decision in that moment.

"Good luck." Law quietly bids.

"Hey…" Soul says, cementing his resolve. "If this goes well, you mind giving me a lift somewhere?"

Law furrows a brow at his odd request but nods. "Of course, Soul," and watches his student place his fingers over the keys lightly. Soul's eyes glance at the page for a second, as anticipation and fear cramp his stomach and make his throat tight. But the instant his hands begin moving, Justin knows that everything will be okay.

The sounds vibrates through the room, strong and fierce. Law closes his eyes and allows the powerful and moving sounds of his students souls inner woes pierce through him a fraction. A faint smile clings on his lips when he hears the room has been drenched in complete, thickening, silence. It's a rather haphazard song, a song that quickly shifts into something less violent and more calm. Justin almost chuckles at the stunned look of Soul's mother, the surprise on Soul's father, as the notes become soft and sweet before picking back up like dominoes falling in a row.

Law presses a hand over his chest, a full smile breaking on his face as Soul continues without falter. Justin notes Soul hasn't spared a single glance at the score out for display. He cannot hear a single error in his recital but he's sure that afterwards, Soul will be complaining about how many errors he had made. The recital seems to go on for hours yet it's only a few minutes; a fraction of time that manages to rob the breath of hundreds of guests and steal their complete attention like nothing before it.

And when he stops, with a final, resounding, chord that strikes their heart sharply like a hammer upon a bell, is the silence its most tangible. It's quiet for a few seconds - seconds that Justin waits with baited breath - before the applause rings high and clear. It's then that Law nods at Soul proudly, clapping when Soul stands, bows, walks out of the spotlight with his shoulders squared and his chin up.

"You did great! Fabulous!" Law praises, clapping a hand tightly on Soul's shoulder and realizing it's tense and trembling. He has always had a magnificent poker face, the music teacher sighs wryly. "You did well, Soul. Pardon me but I don't think that even your parents expected you to do this well!"

Soul pulls on a sharp-toothed grin and looks up at him, with accomplished yet weary eyes. The time spent on that piece of work, the time spent practicing and studying and making up for time lost in his reckless youth, was worth it after all. His fingers ache, his back is sore, and don't even get him started on his achy shoulders from slouching so much. He can feel perspiration run down his neck but it's worth the weight lifted from the hunches of his shoulders. It feels like he can stand up straight again, with dignity.

With no one looking down at him anymore.

"That's the best part," Soul smirks. "It's what I was aiming for."

"Then you accomplished that and more! Now, then! I believe your parents would like a few words with you!" Law chirps, clapping his hands together as he always did when he made an order. Soul glances over at them, catching glimpses of them as guests approach him to congratulate him on his recital. There were a couple who asked for the author of the piece, their amazement when they realize it came from his hand all the more satisfying for Soul. It served them right, to be surprised, for putting him down so much during his youth.

"Wait a sec, didn't we agree on something?" Soul reminds with an arched brow, dismissing those who greet and congratulate him with an aloof nod and thanks. "Y'know, giving me a ride?"

Law blinks then remembers. "Oh! Yes, you wished for me to take you somewhere – ah, are you sure you don't want to stay here a little while?" As Soul's parents approach, somewhat disgruntled they had to go to their son rather the other way around, Justin coaxes weakly: "It _is_ Christmas, after all."

"Exactly." Soul nods, distantly. "I need to be home."

"With Maka," Justin offers hesitantly. Soul snaps his head up at the sound of her name and, after a heartbeat, nods and turns away.

"I owe her," Soul mumbles, ruffling his hair guiltily. "She wanted to come."

"Why didn't you bring her? She could have offered her support. It's harder than it looks, y'know," he adds, dryly.

"I...didn't want her to hear it." Soul admits, slowly. "Not yet."

Law parts his lips before closing them with a small smile just as Soul's mother calls for his name and things begin to look up for the better after many years of disdain.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ouch!<em>" Maka hisses somewhere far from the monumental events taking place at the Evans Manor, shaking out her finger. She sucks on it, glaring back to the hot cookie pan that's half-way out of the oven. She kneels, gazing at it for a moment. The cookies under the orange light look delicious but she can't find herself hungry enough to take one from the pan like she would do when her mother made them. Instead, Maka stands up and finally grabs the oven gloves.

She places the pan on the burners of the stove, tossing the oven gloves on the counter. She made a dozen cookies to show some holiday cheer. She had made them in an attempt to convince herself she was okay, spending the holiday alone. She had finished eating a small meal earlier, around six, but hadn't been able to eat very well knowing that Soul was somewhere in his parents estate trying to earn his name back. She wonders, even now, if he accomplished that and shakes herself right afterward.

Of _course_ he did! She doesn't doubt him, she really doesn't, but although to her it may sound beautiful she knows that to others it may not. She just hopes it inspires them just like it inspires her. She takes one cookie from the pan and bites into it, deciding it's not all so bad. It's warm, soft, and chewy. She wonders if Soul would have liked them better fresh out or left out to cool for a few minutes…

She shuffles the cookies into a plate and leaves them on the table.

She sets her hands on her hips. "There! All done!" She nods to herself.

Silence replies.

Maka sighs in defeat, snatching a cookie from the plate.

She wanders back to the couch, falling back on it. There went her attempt at being cheerful. She turns on the television, grabbing a cushion and stuffing it under her arm. She curled up on the couch, making herself comfortable. The cookie hangs out of her mouth as she lowers the sweater that rode up her waist when she laid down, quickly grabbing the treat before it made a mess of crumbs on the couch. She doesn't need Soul's messy habits rubbing off on her, Maka grimaces, but it's a little too late for that if she's laying on the couch without a plate with the television on full-blast.

Funny how a few weeks with a person can change you.

She's dusting some crumbs from her shirt when the door knob jingles. Heart picking up with hope, Maka peeks up from the couch just as Soul walks in, blazer thrown over his shoulder casually. He hinted about coming home if he could but she didn't - although she had hoped he would - think he'd actually do it. His sudden appearance takes her by surprise anyway.

"Hey, you're awake!" Soul greets with a lazy wave, tossing his jacket on a nearby table. He shuts the door behind him, already kicking off his shoes as he nears her. He's loosening up his tie when she regains her vocals:

"What are you doing here? It's almost_ midnight!_ You're suppose to be at home with your parents! You said you'd stay there for the entire Christmas vacation!" Maka argues stumbling into a sitting position while he sits back beside her.

"Are you kidding me? I'm not gonna' spend my entire vacation with them," Soul snorts. "I haven't called that place home since I was eleven!"

"Wait, then…"

"Hey, is that cookies I smell?" Soul suddenly says, snapping his head to the kitchen. He looks back at her, with friendly and content eyes. They're the most expressive they've ever been after speaking about his parents. It's a sore topic, but he's not depressed today. Something must have gone right, Maka thinks with rising spirits. Had he really done it? "Maka?"

"Oh...oh, yeah, I made some cookies for myself." Maka elaborates, clearing her throat. She smiles back. "You want some?"

"Hell yeah!" Soul grins toothily, vaulting over the couch and making a dash to the kitchen. She winces when she hears the pan clatter against the burners.

"You better not have broken anything, Soul! They're on the table, you idiot!"

"I knew that!" He says through a mouthful of dough. "Just dropped the stupid thin'!" He swallows, taking two more and heading back out. He hands her another one, leaning back against the couch while she watches him act as if he'd just won another basketball game against Black Star. Nothing too big, that's what he's coming off as. It's not fooling her.

Wasn't he going to tell her? Was she going to have to ask? Maka frowns, taking a bite of her cookie.

"What's with that face?" Soul arches a brow.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"How did it go?"

"...Pretty cool."

There's a short silence.

"That's it? Pretty cool?" Maka deadpans, disappointed. "So you mean to tell me that _nothing_ unexpected happened? Everything went according to plan?"

Soul shrugs before sighing at her sharp look. "What do you want me to say? I did it. I surprised the hell out of them – they didn't expect me to learn how to play the piano and compose so quickly. I only had a year to learn what I was supposed to over a course of eleven years. I thought I did pretty good," Soul looks down at his black socks. "Y'know, for a years worth of practice."

Maka smiles, brightly. "See? I told you you'd do well! I kind of wished I was there, though." She laughs a little hurt, leaning back down on the couch. Soul glances at her for a moment, shifting his eyes back down to his sock-clad feet. He knows she wanted to be there - he had wanted her to be there, actually, all things considered.

"You could've been…" Soul admits, slowly.

"What?"

"I said, you could've been." He straightens, awkwardly. "I could have invited you but, uh… I kind of didn't want you to hear me play."

"What? Why!" Maka exclaims, disheartened he'd think so. "I've always liked to listen to you play! You know that…"

"I know!It's just, well…" Soul weighs his words for a moment before sighing: "The composition I wrote… it's really personal."

"….So that's why you played it in front of hundreds of guests?" She says, scathingly.

"Okay, that came out wrong. It's personal in the way that it relates to you," he rephrases and this only throws her into more confusion. When he sees this, he jams his hands in the pockets of his slacks and wearily admits: "I wrote it with you in mind. More than eighty percent of it was… inspired by you." He mutters, scowling when he hears nothing. "So it's weird, to have played it in front of you. It would've thrown me off if you were there."

"How is that weird?" Maka says softly. She smiles when he steals a worried glance at her. "I would have really liked to hear it. You worked on it so hard. I have no idea how I can be inspiring, there's not really much to me…"

"You're wrong." Soul rebukes, immediately. She waits, expectantly, and he deflates. Now he has to explain himself. "There's a lot you don't notice, but I do." He confesses, rubbing the back of his neck. His thoughts stray back to Justin, his nudging elbow and uncool wink before he hopped out of the car. That man was too dramatic, Soul thinks wryly. But he's always onto something. "There's a lot more to you than just some violent bookworm with people issues," he grins at her slit eyes. "You're stupidly nice sometimes. You don't know when to give up. You put your all into everything, even if it hurts you in the end." He says, softly. His hand reaches over to rest on her head, brushing his knuckles down to her warm cheek. "You just don't see how perfect you are, uncool Maka-Chops and all."

She tenses her jaw, closing her eyes when his knuckles rub her cheek affectionately. There's a second where all those butterflies in her stomach are so much it could bring her down to her knees. She believes he's had time to mediate upon what he's going to say because there's no way someone as impulsive as Soul would be able to say something like that without thinking about it first. But then she thinks about his impulsivity and decides he _did_ come up with it all on the spot. That's probably why his hand feels so tense now, his throat clearing uncertainly, as his words slowly sink in.

"I still want to listen to it." Maka replies. Her eyes are crinkled from where she smiles, her cheeks pinking in the way they did when she smiled. He can't find it in himself to look at, not yet. "I want to know just what you think about me."

Soul stills for a second, collecting his quickly vanishing cool, before huffing out a chuckle she echoes. Soon he's laughing a little louder and she's raising a hand to rub away the red splotches on her cheeks. Then he's vaulting over the couch again, plopping down beside her and draping an arm around her shoulders as if it's nothing out of the ordinary.

"Maybe one day." Soul promises, deciding he likes the way she rests her weight on him. "When you're a little _older_. It's not something for children to hear," he taunts, side-glancing her.

Maka just smacks his chest halfheartedly, her laughter contagious.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Just so you all know...

...no, it's not over yet. Did you really think I'd leave you all with these last touching moments? Even I'm not that cruel :P

S_carlett._


	11. Chapter 11

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.11<br>**_A-tisket, a-tasket, a yellow and green basket_

* * *

><p>There's always that moment in life when you're confronted with something you have absolutely no idea how to deal with...<p>

Maka is experiencing that now.

She sits on the quaint black bench with her fingers digging into her thighs because she doesn't know where else to put them - certainly _not_ on the instrument in front of her, not yet at least. The seat doesn't feel comfortable nor does it feel right. She doesn't feel like she belongs in this seat but Mr. Law won't change it. He says, with a hint of concern, that _most_ prefer the bench. After all, that's the most comfortable way to play the piano. A chair simply doesn't do the job.

Then there's _that_ instrument, nestled against the wall, taunting her in all its black glossed glory. The keys are tabs of black and ivory and Maka is reminded of the old man reclined in his seat at the café, with his ankles crossed and a hand holding a phone to his ear. He would laugh and say to _play those ivories, Caroline! _and Maka would wonder what he meant. Then she looked it up and learned what the phrase meant.

And now she was going to play those ivories as well, except she doesn't know the first thing there is to playing the piano and all of Mr. Law's instructions are going in one ear and out the other. So far, Maka knows only which key is which because Mr. Law was merciful enough to label each white and black tab for her. He told her that he'll be removing them in a few days. Maka stresses over the fact that she won't remember all of those keys, so _many_ different sounds, in less than seven days. That's not enough time! Not for someone like her, at least!

It doesn't help that Mr. Law let slip that Soul learned the keys in a day and a half and never forgot the placement of each one.

Once more she's reminded that Soul is special in his own way. He's gifted in the musical arts, that's one. He's a person who has grown to mean a lot to Maka, that's two. He's also the only person she knows who has natural bleach-white hair and an eye color that borders on scarlet, that's three. She tries to explain this to Law but he won't hear it. He says she's a smart girl; she can easily pick up things and can understand most concepts profoundly. He insists she can do it if she _really_ puts her mind to it.

The thing is, yeah, she probably can if she does.

Except she doesn't want to.

Because the piano seems more like a commitment than a hobby and she doesn't like the idea of having her time consumed by the practice of this infernal instrument. She also doesn't like the thought of _not_ being able to play it if she does apply herself and humiliating herself in front of her teacher and potentially the students sitting outside of the room. But she's stopped trying to convince Law to give her a different – _easier_ – instrument. He says they're all the same in the end: the difficultly level is different for beginners, but it always gets difficult. Everything always gets difficult, Maka can't help but to think.

_Life_ is difficult.

_Soul_ is difficult.

_This instrument_ is difficult.

Everything _always_ gets difficult.

Maka can't agree more with that dim philosophy.

"If you're struggling that much, I could always ask Soul to come and give you a few lessons." Law suggests after a few moments and Maka stiffens. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind teaching you how to play the songs, and give you some tips on playing the piano! And maybe you'll like it and continue to pursue it!" He adds optimistically, with sparkles in his eyes.

"NO! No, it's okay, Mr. Law. Really!" Maka hurriedly amends. "I can do it by myself. I just don't do well when people are watching me…"

Law gets the hint. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to ask Soul?" He temps with a winning smile but Maka shakes her head.

"I'm sure. I want to try it out by myself first." Maka tentatively reaches out and presses a tab. A sharp note rings out. It's very loud in the small room but she's comforted with the fact that no one else will be able to hear her mess up over and over again before she gets it. "When do I have to present this to you?"

"Next week, Friday."

She has a total of ten days to learn these two songs well enough that she does not make any noticeable mistakes. Soul had said they were pretty basic songs to play but that's because he has months of experience tucked under his belt as well as talent to boot. Meanwhile, Maka barely grasped the subject because of his influence and now she has to barely manage to play these two songs so she could pass the class with flying colors and not total her GPA.

Maka weighs the pros and cons of asking Soul to help her as Law leaves her be.

Then she remembers why she's annoyed with him in the first place. Never mind the other, minor, fights and arguments they've had, she remembers quite poignantly the moment when he said _no, you can't hear my composition_ and with no clear explanation as to why. She likes to think it's because he's embarrassed about it but she knows he's not. He's proud of what he wrote, what he conceived from hours and hours of patience and perseverance. He's told her only too many times, even grinned at the surprise on his parents faces and his brothers awkward shuffle away from the stage because he had nothing to say to a well-written piece like his.

Yet he won't play it for her.

_Why_?

She likes to think they've grown close enough that he could talk freely around her. She likes to think that maybe there's something brewing between them, something that can make her heart explode in her chest and her face heat up to the color of roses. But maybe she's been reading him all wrong this entire time. Maybe, that time at the movies was him being nice again; one of those good-guy moments he always tried to cover up with a cough and awkward scratch to his head.

Soul's very nice, contrary to popular belief.

It always amuses her to see him hiding behind that cool persona of his, knowing fair enough that he'd do the dishes and clean the house and do her homework and even tie her shoelaces if she couldn't do it herself. Perhaps if she asked him enough, he'd do it, if only because he wanted her to stop nagging him. However, it's those little things he does that makes her think like that – like they have _something_ together that could transform into _something_ even bigger, even better.

At least a lasting friendship? She thinks, dimly. Where was the trust they supposedly had?

Maka taps another key bitterly. He won't even let her _near_ the folder that holds his composition! You would think he was guarding a vault of gold with how aggressive he got if she so much as looked at the thing. She's tried opening the folder to break it down note by note, even if it took her hours to do, but he always catches her. It's not pretty when he catches her. It's why they're not talking now, actually. She taps another key, more angry than bitter now.

What's his problem? What had he encrypted in that composition of his that she can't hear it? Doesn't he know that she isn't that musically attuned – that she probably won't pick it up unless someone points out to her and circles it with a red marker? She feels hurt burn inside of her like hot coal again and she tries to play the first couple of staffs.

The door cracks opens slightly, Law peeking his head inside. "Maka?"

"Yes?" She asks, her fingers fumbling over the last few notes.

"Soul is here. Do you want him to give you a lesson on—?"

"_No_," she frigidly says, and Law gets the hint only too easily. "Tell him I don't want to see him. I can do this by myself!" He offers her a weary smile before excusing himself, allowing Maka to simmer in her anger alone again. She growls in her throat as she tries the first couple of staffs again.

Just _what_ was Soul's deal?

She had been cleaning his room yesterday and curiosity had gotten the better of her again, was that so bad? She'd paused her dusting, wandered over to his desk where he'd slipped the folder neatly under his lamp, and picked it up. She had only managed to browse through one whole page of musical nonsense when he stepped into the room and practically blew a gasket.

It's not like she _understood_ it.

Not really.

But what was secretively woven between those notes? What _didn't_ he want her to know? She remembered him saying something about her inspiring him. Maybe she'd inspired him in the _wrong_ way and he didn't want to hurt her feelings? Maybe the score was dark, maybe ridiculous? Maka feels unease knot with her anger.

_Then that's just fine! _Maka growls to herself as she snatches the music sheet Law had given her at the start of the class. The symbols are almost foreign to her but with a little more concentration, they start to make sense. _I can do this by myself and he doesn't have to know, either! _Maka steeled her resolve with those last few words.

He doesn't want to hear her play? That's _fine_.

She may not be able to compose some song on the piano like he can but he still can't hear _her_ recital!

* * *

><p>"This is <em>hard." <em>Maka groans aloud, shoulders slumped helplessly an hour later. Law had peeked into the room to check on her progress when he realized, dryly, that she had _no idea_ how the song went so she'd wasted half an hour staring at the page and trying to grasp the beat. After he went through the song with little to no mishaps, she'd gotten the tune of it and tried it herself again. She was still too slow and Law had to constantly remind her to adjust her posture but after a few more tries, the song picked up in speed and there were times where she'd play it nicely.

Key words being: _were times._

Around seventy percent was spent fumbling and messing up. Then came the second song, which was, unfortunately, more complicated than the first one. She only got past one staff before she gave up.

So she's reached an impasse.

She couldn't play the first song very well and she couldn't play the second one at all. So she decided she'd rather practice _one_ song perfectly and try her best on the second one. Perhaps Law will have enough mercy not to totally kill her grade if he saw she was trying. With that in mind, Maka practiced in bits and pieces. She left the pieces she knew well alone and repeatedly practiced pieces she couldn't get the handle to. Then, gradually, she fit those pieces together until she could play the first song completely to the end without totally messing up. It was decent compared to her first few tries, at the very least.

"Maka?" Law peers into the room again, smiling when he finds her neck-deep in concentration. Her posture is straight, her fingers hitting each key as they are supposed to. She looks a little stiff but soon, Law hopes, her body will adjust to the position and she will be able to relax a little more.

"She done?" Soul asks, bending a little to catch a glimpse of Maka. He only catches her back, able to see her hands moving across the keys before she messes up and stops and tries again.

Law closes the door quietly. "Not quite, it seems. She's doing much, much better now. You should have seen her an hour earlier." Law cringes.

"That bad?"

"I don't blame her too much." He admits, mercifully. "It is her first time playing an instrument and the piano isn't an easy instrument as it is."

"Hn," Soul grunts, jamming his hands in his pockets. He doesn't want Maka to stress out over this and have another one of her mini-melt downs. He'd been caught in one a few weeks back, during an exam she had been studying for, and he'd learned that day that Maka and stress were _not_ a good combination at all.

"She's doing fantastic on her own now!" Law positively says. "Hopefully she won't give up anytime soon…but, I must ask, just _what_ did you do to her to make her so angry?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's upset, Soul, particularly at you." Law raises his brows at him when he looks away, a scowl marring his face.

"She went through my stuff!" Soul gruffly replies.

"Ah," Law nods understandingly.

"…Well. Actually, she tried to read my composition." Soul admits, ignoring his curious look. "I don't want her to read it. Not yet."

"When can she?"

"When the times right and it's not now," Soul mumbles, and does his best to ignore the love struck look that's glistening in his teachers eyes. He even manages to keep his cool when Law sighs dreamily, definitely not wanting to know what thoughts run amok in that warped mind of his. "I'm leaving. I gotta' get to class anyway."

"May your thoughts be full of love and peace!"

"Shuddup, you hippie." Soul snaps over his shoulder. He smirks, rebelliously. "Peace is for chumps!"

"Of course, Soul, of course!" Law laughs airily while Soul slams the door behind him, standing in the hall for a second to collect himself. He looks over his shoulder to the door, knowing that just a few paces inside lied Maka, hunched over the piano practicing her own songs over and over again. He could help her – he can teacher her a few tricks he's discovered himself - because he knows how much of a pain it is to learn a song under such time restraints. But with the way they were currently, he'd be lucky if she even cooked him dinner tonight.

* * *

><p>"Peace...is the coolest thing ever invented..." Soul mumbles to himself mournfully as he stares at his plate. More accurately, as he stares at the mound of lettuce, chopped carrots, sliced cucumber, and an assortment of other leafy green goods that he can't find it in himself to name. Those first few were more than enough as it were. He had been spot on about him being lucky if Maka even cooked him dinner because when he'd arrived after a very satisfying game of basketball with the guys, Maka had flatly dropped a plate of <em>this <em>in front of him and walked to her room without batting another eye at him.

He has one of two options at this point: eat this, starve a bit, but hopefully get on her good side or skip on eating it, store it in the refrigerator for her to munch on later, and go out to buy a burger; a meal that will ensure he regain all of those calories he lost in that basketball game.

_Or I can eat it, _Soul thinks as he stuffs himself with freshly washed vegetables, _and go get some burgers so I don't starve to death! _Satisfied with his master plan, Soul finishes his plate and dumps it in the sink, letting water run over it for a bit before washing it properly and letting it dry on the dish rack. He pokes his head out from the kitchen, watching Maka's door for a second. He can hear no movement come from her bedroom and he wonders if perhaps she was taking a nap. Regardless of what, it worked in his favour.

"I'm gonna' go hang out with Black Star! Be back by eight!" Soul calls, feeling a pang of regret when she doesn't reply. Maybe he had overreacted yesterday when she opened up that folder. He'll make it up to her somehow. "Later, Maka!" And he slams the door closed and heads down the stairs to the parking lot, intent on hauling his best friends ass with him to the nearest burger place to get some serious relationship advice.

And he does succeed in hauling Black Star's ass to the nearest burger joint - along with Kid's.

"_Why _am I here again?" Kid asks blandly, stifling a sigh when Black Star scarfs down another pack of fries. "I could be at home, dusting off my room and ensuring all of the rolls of toilet paper are folded in perfect triangles, but instead I am here in this...frankly _disgusting _fast-food facility watching this idiot here swallow down food at an ungodly rate!" He slits his eyes at Black Star, who ignores him and merely takes another crunching bite of his burger.

"I brought you here cuz asking Black Star for advice is like going to the mob for a loan." Soul deadpans.

"Hey!" Black Star protests, taking a drink of his soda to wash down his food. "I can so give awesome relationship advice! You want my advice for dealing with a pissed off Maka? Make up sex, Soul, it's the best fucking creation mankind has ever known!" And with that, he takes another bite of his burger.

"Might I remind you, Black Star, that Soul and Maka are not involved in that manner so your 'solution' is invalid." Kid flatly points out. "Regardless if they were, such an uncouth approach is hardly necessary! First off, Soul, what was it you did to upset Maka to such a level? She's usually quite calm."

Soul and Black Star stare at him.

"Well, around _me_ she is." Kid briskly amends.

Soul sighs in frustration. "She's just pissed cuz I flipped out when I saw her reading my composition. I know she can understand it so if she reads it, I'm done for."

"What is so important about this composition of yours?"

"She inspired it."

Kid hums his understanding, dipping a fry in ketchup. This was one of the reasons Soul brought Kid along: what Black Star didn't understand due to his lack-of interest in any one else except himself, Kid understood to an almost painful accuracy and nearly always had a logical solution to the problem. Soul was quite level-headed himself but in regards to Maka, everything he did only seemed to makes thing worse.

"So, what? I don't see the big deal!" Black Star interjects, snatching a few fries from Kid. "Just tell her that it's a surprise and she can't see it no matter what! That'll get her off your back and she'll be happy again! There, problem solved!"

"It's not so easy, Star." Soul grits out, knowing it would take more than a few words to placate that woman he's become fond of. "This is _Maka _we're talking about!"

"Buy her some food as a thoughtful gesture." Kid speaks up, gesturing to the front of the restaurant. "That will off-set any aggressive behavior when you walk in tonight and then proceed to apologize. After that, explain to her that the composition means very much to you and you would like for her to hear it at the appropiate time and place. That should please her, for the moment."

"For the moment?" Soul says, warily.

Kid shrugs, munching on another fry blandly. "This _is _Maka we're speaking of."

"Now he gets it!" Black Star guffaws, stealing a bite of Kid's burger as well. Kid merely sighs, accepting his fate.

"Apologizing isn't very cool," Soul mumbles to himself, without much conviction. He pushes his tray of half-finished food to Black Star, the boy pouncing on the tray with the hunger of a starving lion. "But I guess I can make an exception."

"Yes, now, may I leave? Now?" Kid squirms in his seat, a nauseous look replacing his previously composed one. "I have a bad feeling."

"About?" Soul frowns.

"My house." Kid swallows. "I forgot Liz and Patty were coming over today. They were supposed to come for some tutoring..."

"Tutoring, huh, _huh?"_ Black Star nudges his arm suggestively. "BWUAHAHAHA! KID'S GETTIN' LAID!" He hoots, raising his hand in a high five. Kid's brow twitches but he humors the boy, giving him two high fives to ensure symmetry and immediately wiping his hands on his trousers.

"There will be none of this 'getting laid'," Kid air-quotes dryly, "tonight, Black Star. Whenever Patty is over and I am not around..." Kid cringes. "Things tend to become more _asymmetrical_ than how I left them to be."

"Better run, man." Soul casually suggests, taking a drink of his coke. "I can almost see her tipping every frame in your house five inches to the right."

"DON'T SAY SUCH A THING!" Kid shouts, scandalized. He stands, chair screeching back noisily in his haste. Hardly anyone in the restaurant bats an eye at the profusely sweating aristocrat. "Patty -_ Liz!_ Liz knows better than to let her run wild in my home!"

"Whatever floats your boat but last I heard, Liz couldn't give a - !" Soul watches Kid run out of the restaurant with a rushed goodbye, already in his car and gunning the engine with wide, panicked, eyes. "...shit."

"Hey, where'd Kid go? I needed to tell him that Liz and Patty can't make it today cuz Liz has some thing at a hair salon." Black Star blinks when Soul stares at him.

"_You _were the one who told him he was gonna' get laid tonight!"

"Yeeeeah but I thought that was _afterwards_. After Liz gets her nails done or whatever." Black Star shrugs at Soul's dry look, finishing up the remains of his burger. He wipes his hands on a napkin, grinning out evilly: "It's also kinda' funny to watch him freak out like that for no reason."

"You're awesome!" Soul cackles, their knuckles meeting in smug victory over their OCD-impaired friend.

"Duh, I'm Black Star. When you look up awesome, I _am _the definition." He grins arrogantly and stands up, dusting off the crumbs from his shirt with one hand. "Anyway, gotta' split, Soul, Tsubaki wants me to pick up some stuff from the grocers for dinner."

"That sounds strangely domestic, even for you." Soul arches a brow, poking his cup of soda moodily.

"Eh, she makes the food, I eat it." Black Star rubs his stomach, humming in thought. "I'll have to force it down since I ate right now, though. But I'll eat anything Tsubaki cooks for me! She's a great cook!" He beams.

"See you later, then." Soul sighs, waving once lazily and slumping back in his seat.

"Seriously...uh, go make up with Maka, yeah? It's not awesome to see your disciples at each others throats like this! I gotta' keep my followers together, y'know?" Black Star smiles lopsidedly.

"Yeah, I'll fix this." Soul stands up as well, going over to the front to grab her something to eat as Kid suggested. "Later, Star!" Soul doesn't need to look back to know his friend has already disappeared in that strangely stealthy way he always does when he's feeling particularly calm.

And when Soul arrives back home with a bag full of Maka's dinner, there is no light and no usual smell of recently cooked food. The apartment is as he had last seen it when he left earlier and he feels his brows crease in worry despite his irritation towards her. He walks over to her bedroom, knocking a few times and recieving no response. He doesn't dare open the door.

"I brought you food." He announces. He hears a soft _thanks _but nothing else. He sighs, annoyed. "Look, Maka, sorry for yelling at you yesterday, alright? It's just not cool to go through my stuff like that!" He pauses, remembering Kid's words, and continues: "I'll let you hear it one day, when the times right. That's just not right now and it's probably gonna' be a while before you can hear it. But you'll hear it. Just be patient, I promise I'll... give you a private recital."

He vaguely hears her reply, it's muffled in her pillow, but he smiles at the insecure question. "You dweeb, it's not something bad! It's, uh, a good thing. At least to me it's a good thing - the inspiration, I mean, not the, uh, aw, _shit!_" Soul cusses, feeling his face heat up. He was fumbling again and that was certainly not cool. "I mean, the composition means a lot to me - !" He cuts off when the door opens to reveal a relieved-looking Maka.

"It's alright, Soul." She softly says, dropping her eyes to the bag he holds tightly in his hand. He manages to force down his embarrassment enough to look normal. "I understand. You'll let me hear it when the times right. I can wait until then." She points to the bag, smiling playfully. "That's for me, right?"

"Yeah." He coughs, handing it to her immediately. "Eat it. I know you skipped lunch today."

"How do you know that?" Maka asks, suspiciously.

"Cuz I was in the music room with Justin for lunch."

Maka tenses, hoping he hadn't heard her play the piano while he had been in there. The room managed to muffle the sound of the instrument but not completely. Surely not if Soul decided to _casually _lean against the door to the room she was practicing in, of all places.

"If you need help," Soul taps his finger on his door knob for a second. "Just ask, alright? I can give you a couple of pointers."

"...Okay." Maka mumbles in defeat, clutching the bag of fast-food to her chest. Her stomach gives a soft rumble and she flushes when Soul chuckles, finally throwing open his door to his bedroom. That was all he needed to hear to know that he was mostly forgiven for his outburst yesterday.

"Night, Maka."

She smiles. "Goodnight, Soul."


	12. Chapter 12

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.12<br>**_I__ wrote a letter to my love, and on the way I dropped it_

* * *

><p>"You worry too much, Blair. She is doing just <em>fine<em>," Arachne drawls in that inexplicably calm voice of hers. She lifts a leg out of the pool of bubbles she lies in, watching the suds slide down her skin. She wonders if she should call Giriko to add more bubbles to her bath when Blair replies on the other line, sounding like the screeching cat she was. Arachne could really do without her hissing. "But _of course_ I am keeping tabs on her and she is _quite_ happy with that Soul boy she's rooming with. I don't know, I don't monitor them every second!"

A knock is heard and Arachne looks to find Giriko peering in, raising a brow at her. She smiles, pleased that he'd gotten the hang of being a butler already, but waves him off and lets her leg sink back into the tepid water.

"I'm not sure. I haven't seen the girl recently," Arachne frankly tells her, knowing she could not give away so much with Giriko hovering. Arachne leans out of the bathtub, listening. She presses the phone to her chest to ignore Blair's screeching and listens for any movement: faintly, in the distance, in her spacious living room, she can hear Giriko burp and turn up the volume on the game he was watching on TV. Satisfied, Arachne continues more confidently: "When you contracted me, you asked me to look over the girl and ensure her safety. Well, she is safe and Giriko no longer holds any ill towards her. I have done my side of the job – !" Arachne suddenly stops, considering her new offer. "Ahh, so the cats getting hitched, is she?"

Arachne snorts derisively at Blair's excitement, frankly not seeing what was so exciting about being wed. Arachne preferred this sort of sinful living – she could easily kick Giriko out the instant he got on her nerves and it was quite harder, and with more legal risk, to completely push a husband out of ones life when they overestimated their say in the relationship.

"Give her a ring for me, will you? I don't need Giriko causing a stir when I arrive and Maka does not recognize me." Arachne calmly says. She lifts her hand out of the tub, blowing at the bubbles in her palm. "This will cost you extra." She squints at her nails; was that a chip she saw? She'd need to drop by the salon soon. "Mmm…of course…goodbye, you mangy cat." Arachne closes her phone and reclines in the tub, a yawn escaping her. "Giriko! _Giriko!_"

He comes a few minutes later, a can of beer in his hand. "What'd'ya' want? Make it quick, I'm missing the game!"

Arachne sours, slitting her eyes at him.

He sighs. "What is it, Arachne?"

"That's _Lady_ Arachne to you!"

He scoffs but humors her. "What is it, _Lady_ Arachne?"

"I want more suds in my tub!" Arachne juts her lips out in a pout. When he only stares candidly at her, she motivates him by stretching out a little. Giriko follows the movement faithfully and she smiles, satisfied with the reaction. "Be a doll and grab my bottle of bubble soap from the cabinet."

Giriko grunts in reply but does as he's told, taking out the damn bottle and handing it to her. She smiles up at him in satisfaction and Giriko feels his irritation skyrocket. He's missing the game for this but he does it quickly, hopeful that there's a commercial on.

"Oh, and tomorrow we shall be visiting our little Maka!" Arachne happily chirps. Giriko freezes up, darting his eyes down to her. Before he can open his mouth and ruin her evening, Arachne adds: "You'll be on your best behavior, do you hear me? We won't be there for long and you do not have to come with me if it makes you uncomfortable. I'd rather you stay put, actually, it'd make my job a lot more easier." Arachne loftily hands the bottle of suds back to her stunned butler. "Is that understood?"

He grumbles choice words under his breath.

"_What_ was that, you oaf?"

Giriko takes a deep, patient, breath. If he didn't want this woman so much, he would have blown her brains out a long time ago. Perhaps 'blown her brains out' is a little violent: he would have left her already. Yes, that's better, Giriko nods to himself. "Yes, Lady Arachne."

"Good boy!" Arachne coos condescendingly, and reaches up to him with a plastic smile. Soap slides down her creamy skin tantalizingly and already he can feel heat collect in his loins when she sits up, revealing a sud-covered chest to him; the rippling water and bubbles doing only so much to cover her unmentionables. "I'm so proud of you!"

"You're a bitch," Giriko sneers with a crooked grin.

"And you're _my _bitch," Arachne smirks, and leans up to close the distance between them.

* * *

><p>"OUCH! Whoa, jeez, that was horrible!" Soul winces, hands clapped over his ears when Maka fumbles on the keyboard he let her borrow. "Okay... lets start over, from the top"<p>

Maka sighs but tries once more, managing to get past the middle of the song before it all falls apart for her. They had been at it for the past few days, nonstop, at every chance they got. Maka was steadily improving, so Soul insisted, but to Maka each failure was a harder blow on her pride and gradually sawing confidence.

"Here, you see that?" Soul points to the sheet spread before her, the complicated number they were on. "I want you to play that part, over and over again, until your fingers get the rhythm of it. Got it?"

"Mm," Maka softly hums back, following his instruction blandly. Soul frowns at her unenthusiastic reply and ruffles her hair, quirking his lips up in a smile when she looks up furiously. It was better than looking gloomy.

"Cheer up, Maka, don't give up now. You're doing better and by the time I'm done with you, you'll be able to play that for Justin perfectly." He tweaks her nose and stands up before she can hit him, heading out to the kitchen for a glass of water. "When I come back, you better have practiced that staff six times!" He warns, and heads to the kitchen.

He's half-way through downing a bottle of water when the phone rings. Soul walks over to the cradle, finding it empty, and looks around the living room for a bit. He finds the phone lying upside down on the couch and he reaches it before the person gets sent to the messaging machine.

"Sup, Soul speaking." He answers, drinking some more water. His eyes bulge at who greets him. "Wait a sec, you're that woman! Blair!" He squints his eyes when she immediately tells him not to pass her to Maka. "How come? Arachne? The hell is that—….oh." He listens to her instruction carefully. "So, she's been stalking Maka and me—riiight, _watching over_," he scoffs, "you sure it's wise to give away Maka's location like that? I don't need some redneck drunk breaking down my door cuz he wants to hack off Maka's head."

"SOUL!" Maka's voice rings clear from the bedroom, excited. "I got it! I got the entire song in one go! I DID IT!"

Soul grins and lowers the phone. "SHUT UP AND GIVE ME SIX MORE!"

"YOU SHUT UP!" Maka shouts back but the laugh is clear in her words.

"Huh?" Soul raises a brow at Blair's query. "Oh, nothin'. Maka's playing the piano so—!" The squeals and excited laughter that greet him after those few words bewilders him. He rolls his eyes as Blair leans into one of her infamous rants and he takes a drink of water, nearly choking at the next words she says. "NO! No, she is _so_ not ready for that! No way! She can't play at your wedding, you kidding me, she nearly had a stroke when Justin told her she has to learn these two songs!" Soul snaps. "But—fuck—no, Blair, wait up—aw, shit." He stares at the phone, pale-faced and fearing for his life. "Uh…"

"SOUL!" Maka shouts, annoyed. "Where are you so I can show you! Who was it?"

"Ah, um!" Soul panics, going from the phone to the bedroom. "Ngh, shit…" He chokes out, sweating bullets by the time Maka appears at the doorframe, cocking her head at him.

"Soul?"

"I _swear_ I didn't do it – she came to the conclusion all on her own!" Soul quickly establishes and hopes that's enough to save him from her wrath.

"What are you talking about, Soul?" Maka frowns, nearing him. Soul takes two steps back to atone for the distance. "Soul, what did you do." Maka demands, voice dropping several octaves; a usual sign that he was in for it either way.

"I didn't _do_ anything! Blair called and told me some woman called Arachne was coming over to tell you something and then she heard you shout and I told her you were learning how to play a couple of songs on the piano and she..." He takes a breath, deciding beating around the bush wasn't wise. "She said if you'd like to play a song… in the church."

"…In the church?" Maka repeats, blankly.

"Uh, y'know, the bridal march isn't that hard to play on the piano." Soul laughs uneasily. "You can have it done in… two weeks for sure?"

Her chest swells and her eyes spark with undiluted rage at the significance of his words but the torrent of fury and distress is put on hold when a simple knock sounds. Soul immediately rushes to the front door, throwing it open and coming face to face with possibly the _hottest_ milf he has seen in a long time. She's tall, with curves meant to bring men to their knees, and luminous pale purple eyes that stare into his own with the interest usually given to a rodent. That was the deal breaker: she looked as stuck-up as a spoiled model, with attitude to boot. For all her beautiful traits, her personality soured it completely.

"You must be..." she begins, and her voice is a seductive drawl that edges to disgust at the sight of him. He momentarily wonders what caused this instant dislike of him and decides, given he's wearing black jeans and a decent shirt, she just doesn't like him for some reason. "_Soul Evans_, am I right?"

"Uh, yeah." He replies, shaking himself from his daze. Upon second inspection, some of this woman's appeal lessens at the sight of her merciless eyes and faux smile. "You must be Arachne."

"Arachne?" Maka pipes up, coming to stand beside him. "Do you know her, Soul?"

"I take it Blair called to announce my arrival?" Arachne prompts and Soul sighs, nodding.

"I was getting to that, Maka." Soul tells her when she looks at him, confused. "She called right now to tell me Arachne was coming to give you some news and explain why Giriko has left us alone recently."

"Good boy." Arachne tells Soul and he slits his eyes, not taking being reduced to a hapless household pet very well. "Good morning, Maka, as you know, my name is Arachne and I am the reason why you're still alive and well right now and not rotting in a basement, beaten and raped, by Giriko's men." She pleasantly smiles, completely ignoring the flat, open-mouthed, response delivered by one irritated Soul Evans. "If you would invite me in, we can begin…?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Maka flusters, opening the door a little more for her. "Come in! Make yourself at home!" Arachne enters with a haughty toss of her hair over her shoulder, taking in each detail of their humble apartment with criticizing eyes. She doesn't seem to condemn it completely for she willingly takes a seat on the couch and crosses a leg over the other, looking no more uncomfortable than a person sitting in a bus.

"So, out with it." Soul bites out. He ignores Maka's warning look. "According to Blair, you're keeping tabs on us. Why."

"Maka, specifically, but, yes, you're involved now." Arachne corrects airily. "Blair contracted me a few weeks back. I am ensuring that Maka stays safe and sound at your side and, as I stated before, not beaten and raped like Giriko planned to have her for escaping her debt to him. He's a very easily scorned man – could hold a grudge longer than a woman can, for certain." She snorts. "But I digress. Just be rest assured that until Giriko completely lets go of his grudge, he will be under my wing. He makes for a good butler when called for; you could learn a thing or two from him, Evans boy." Arachne sneers at Soul, who bares his teeth at her. "My reason for this visit is to tell you, Maka, that Blair is having her wedding in New York on the twenty fifth of December of this year and she would very dearly want you attend." She smiles that unnervingly gentle smile of hers that leaves both teens on edge. "She'll ensure your plane ticket is paid for. You may bring one guest _only_." Arachne glances at Soul with poorly concealed distaste. "Choose wisely."

"Fuck. Off." Soul enunciates clearly and cringes when Maka smacks him over the head. "_What was that for?_" He hisses.

"Thank you for delivering the message, Miss Arachne," Maka politely says, ignoring Soul's grumbling. "I'm assuming you will tell Blair my answer?" At her gracious nod, Maka continues. "I'd love to attend! I'll be sure to bring one guest as well. I know just who!" Maka beams and Arachne smiles genuinely for the first time since she arrived.

"Good. I'll call her later to tell her the good news." Arachne ensures. "Oh, and if Giriko ever comes around for some unnecessary banter, be sure to remind him that you're practically my god child and I would _hate_ if anything were to happen to you. That should quiet him for a few days." She smiles her plastic smile and stands, dusting her skirts off. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Maka." Arachne extends her hand and Maka takes it, unable to ignore just how cold it feels.

"The pleasure was all mine!" Maka smiles, hoping it doesn't look as forced as it feels.

"Ah….dog." Arachne dryly regards Soul.

"Bitch—!" Soul bites his lip when Maka sends him a lethal look of warning. He instead bears Arachne's demeaning gaze and bites out, "Later." He doesn't think he can say anything else without slipping in a curse word or two or three.

Arachne turns around and heads for the door, Maka opening it for her and bidding her one last goodbye that the woman nods to; seeming pleased with her, for all her good fortune.

"The _hell_ was her problem? She called me a fucking dog, what the fuck?" Soul spits after Arachne leaves. "I didn't do anything to her and she starts treating me like crap!"

"She doesn't like men, Soul." Maka sighs, plopping down on the couch. "She takes being a feminist to a whole new level. It's not you, personally, she just doesn't like men in general. Blair talked about her once. They used to be really good friends until Blair….kind of stole her fiancée from her."

"Kind of?" Soul grumps, plopping down beside her.

"Well, Arachne is a really beautiful woman and so is Blair. There's always been a rivalry between them." Maka remembers when Blair told her that a few months afterward, the relationship between her and Arachne's ex-fiancée had crumbled and the woman had been left heartbroken and bitter when the man had the audacity to return to her begging to be taken back. "Arachne just never took that incident very well. She already had a dislike towards men, that just made things worse."

"She needs to get over it." Soul grunts, finishing the last few gulps of water. "She's hot and all but she's a total bitch, even I can see that. I wouldn't get near that even if she bribed me."

"Please, you say that now!" Maka scoffs and Soul catches the undertone of bitterness in her words. "If she ever even showed a smidgen of interest, you'd be at her beck and call like Giriko."

"No, I wouldn't." Soul flatly denies.

"I think you would." Maka flatly says, grabbing the remote from the table. "You're a guy, after all, that's all you guys do. The instant a pretty lady walks into the room, all your eyes on her and no one else."

"Oi, don't do stereotyping me like that, Maka, just cuz I'm a guy!"

"You were _staring_ at her!" Maka accuses.

"So were you!"

"Not in the same way you were, mine was more out of shock!" Maka justifies.

"Alright, fine. I _was_ staring at her." Soul flatly admits. Maka narrows her eyes, feeling bitterly triumphant. "But I wasn't going to _drool_ all over her. Like I said, I can admit that she's attractive, but I wouldn't chase after her. First, she's not my type. Second, she's a bitch. And, third, anyone can see she's high maintenance and almost always girls like that are never in it for the long-run." Soul flatly counts off, sinking back in his seat. "'Sides, I already have someone I like."

Maka tenses, darting her eyes to him. "You do?"

"Yeah."

"…Who is it?"

"A girl." Soul casually replies, gazing at the TV that's running commercials at the moment.

"I _know_ it's a girl," Maka starts off, mildly irritated, "but what's her name?"

Soul doesn't reply. Instead, he grabs the water bottle and taps it on his cheek, staring at the television with eyes that give away not a fraction of what he is thinking. Maka sets her jaw and sits straight, glaring at the television instead. She taps her fingers on her arm and feels her irritation grow worse the longer they remain in stressed silence.

"I'm going to my room to practice." Maka flatly announces.

"Six times." Soul reminds.

"I know that!" She shouts back. "I've already done it three times, for your information!"

"…Ten times!"

"You said—!"

"I know what I said and I said ten times. You wanna' learn this by Friday, right? Well, Friday is right around the corner and if you keep putting it off, you're not gonna' learn the songs on time and then you'll be freaking out when the day comes." Soul calmly says, not moving his eyes from the TV screen. He knows Maka is glaring at him from the doorframe of her room. "After you finish playing it ten times, practice the second song four times and you can call it quits for night."

"Fine!" Maka slams the door behind her.

After a couple of seconds, Soul sinks bonelessly into the couch and slaps a hand on his hair. He drags it down to his flushed face, flattening his unruly tufts of white hair on his forehead while he was at it.

"Close call," he mumbles wearily, tossing the bottle on the table and changing the channel to something more interesting.

* * *

><p>"Let me get this straight: you <em>casually <em>told her that you already have someone you like." Kid states the next morning, Monday, as he pops open his carton of milk. Maka is in the music room, having excused herself there the instant she got out of class, and Soul had confidence that with these many hour she's packing through the day, she'll know those two songs by heart once Friday arrived. "And you did not tell her who it was. Brilliant, Soul, absolutely genius."

"What was I _supposed_ to do? Outright tell her? That's not cool and you know it, Kid!"

"I just can't seem to wrap my mind around when this 'right time, right place' will come. You've had numerous opportunities and perhaps if you told her, she would stop being so upset over the things you say to ensure she stays in the dark about your feelings!" Kid sighs, feeling a headache coming. "I vie for telling her!" He raises a hand, blandly.

"_No_." Soul sneers, glaring Kid's hand back down to his side. "I've got this handled, alright? I know what I'm gonna' do and it's gonna' be cool. I just have to wait."

"Do you _really _have a plan?" Kid asks, skeptically.

Soul tenses.

Kid narrows his eyes.

"Well, _not really—!_"

"Soul," Kid growls, warningly. "I allowed this because I was sure Maka would be in good hands but if you continue to blow her off like this for the sake of this 'plan' of yours, that is apparently nonexistent, I can easily take back my blessings."

"You make it sound like you're her dad or something." Soul sourly points out.

"I might as well be." Kid flatly tells him. Soul stares. "Her father had been nothing but a bad influence in her life. I usually monitored her finances and well-being – at least, until Maka met Blair and she took over the guardianship. But even then, I had always kept a steady eye on her."

"And somehow the fact that she was paying a gangster so she wouldn't get shot _totally_ went over your head."

"I _tried _to keep her out of danger. There is nothing I can do if she's keeping things from me. You're a prime example: _how_ can you expect she be trusting towards you when you've practically left her a love letter and _forgot_ to write down your name?" He witheringly spits and Soul lifts his lip up in a sneer.

"Alright. You want me to tell her? That it?"

"It would be the right thing to do, considering you've strung her along this long!"

Before Soul can reply, Black Star shouts his greetings from afar, the Thompson sisters and Tsubaki trailing behind him with their trays of lunch in their hands. Soul refrains from commenting further on the matter and Kid does a majestic job at composing his expression into something pleasant. Soul, on the other hand, merely slumps forward on his elbows and doesn't bother with rearranging his facial expression into something more receptive.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Liz comments upon catching Soul's sour face.

"Your mom."

"Whoa-_ho!_" Liz smirks, raising a brow at the surly teen. "What was that about my mom? I'd be offended except I haven't seen her since I was five. Try again, cool guy."

Soul grunts but doesn't comment further, sinking deeper into his slouch. Liz rolls her eyes at his angsting but leaves him be, turning to Kid to tell him of the latest gossip she's heard from Kim. Patty eats her lunch merrily, blinking curiously at Soul every so often, and offers him a bag of grapes to somehow off-set his bitter mood.

Soul smiles halfheartedly at the kind attempt to lift his mood but shakes his head. Patty falters but helps herself, deciding if that couldn't help, then perhaps Maka could bring him back up into better spirits later.

After a few more minutes of mindless chatter, with Soul's irritation growing with every passing, disappointed, look from Kid, he stands up and silently makes him way away from the table. He doesn't so much as twitch when Liz says, rather loudly, what the hell was his problem and he doesn't bother to explain himself when Black Star practically shouts him the same question. He merely makes his way out of the cafeteria, turning down the hall that will lead him to the music room.

His arrival takes longer than usual because he took the longer way but once he arrives, he peeks through the door and notices that the room is practically empty save for the song that comes from the practice room. The melody rings clear and high, with all the notes appropriately hit although Soul can pick out a mistake or two before she repeats the song and corrects the errors. Despite his criminal mood, he smiles at her steady improvement.

She was playing the second song, the harder one.

She was doing fantastic for a few days work.

Soul opens the door to the practice room, letting it close behind him in a soft sigh of air. He slinks to the back of the room, ensuring Maka was unaware of his entrance, and watches her for a few moments. Her posture is lacking again but she's hitting the right notes. For a second, Soul thinks about Kid's disapproval.

Was he taking too long in this confusing game of give and take? Perhaps yesterday he could have come clean and today, it would have been different. He wouldn't be sulking and, who knows, he could have probably been here the entire time watching her practice and knowing that she wouldn't belong to anyone else but him until either said otherwise.

_"You've practically left her a love letter and forgot to write down your name."_

He frowns.

He did not.

For one, it wasn't a love letter at all. Love letters weren't cool nor were they effective, in his opinion, spoken words worked best and usually had the best pay-off. Secondly, he'd more let it slip accidentally and hadn't been able to offer a proper cover-up so he'd ignored it and Maka, being who she was, become upset instead and stormed to her room. Thirdly, as Soul watched her mumble a quiet curse and start over, this girl meant quite a lot to him and to simply _tell _her so anticlimactically wasn't cool at all.

But he couldn't have her on a jealous rage, either.

"Sit up straight." Soul speaks up. Maka squeaks in surprise. She turns, shocked to find him standing there so casually, but complies with a slight scowl.

"What are you doing here, Soul? And when did you get here?" Maka asks curiously, starting over since she lost her place. "I thought you were with Black Star and the others."

"I was, but I came by to check on your progress." Soul says, and ambles closer to her. He grabs her shoulders and rights them in the same way his tutor had done to him when he was younger. There's a tiny pang of nostalgic bitterness before it's washed away at the sight of Maka's tilted back head, her green eyes boring into his own cautiously. He smiles down at her. "Straighten up. Justin's gonna' grade you on posture, too."

"He never told me that!" Maka immediately straightens.

"I saw it on his grading sheet." Soul whispers conspiratorially, grinning when she snorts. "He's also gonna' test you on tempo. You slow down when you reach parts you're not sure of. You should be sure of the entire thing by Friday." Soul gently places his hands under Maka's and silently asks her to align them.

Maka is left staring at just how much bigger his hands are compared to hers before he starts playing the song. She feels a slight exhilaration in watching Soul concentrate on the score laid out before him and playing it without missing a beat. She's sure he's never played this before yet he's mastered it in nearly no time at all. He keeps the tempo, his fingers do not falter in uncertainty like hers do, and his concentration is almost one hundred percent.

The fragrance of deodorant and body wash is terribly distracting. She finds herself sitting straighter, her cheek bone brushing the sharp angle of his jaw. His hands don't even pause in their song, reaching the end before repeating it from the middle as he was supposed to. As he starts again, perhaps slightly faster than before, Maka watches his fingers tap each key with precision. Rather dreamy on his scent, when he stops playing, she doesn't remove her hands. She doesn't think she could, now that she thinks of it, because he squeezes them in his own and flattens their hands on the piano keys softly.

Maka looks up at him, searching his expression for anything that may give him away. He doesn't look away this time: he keeps his eyes trained on hers. His right hand clutches her own and she's suddenly made aware of their proximity and how Soul's lips press against the warm skin of her cheek in affection.

Her eyes nearly close, his mouth so close to hers she can almost feel his lips, when they both hear the faint click of a door closing and hear Justin rummaging about in the classroom. Soul immediately pulls away and just in time, too, for Justin opens the door and peers inside to check up on her.

Upon seeing their hands joined on the piano, Justin raises a suspicious brow. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Ah, no!" Maka flusters, snatching her hands out from under his. "Soul was just teaching me how to play the second song!"

"Ah, leading you with his hands, was he?" Justin quirks a brow at Soul, who stares at him flatly. "How very gentlemanly of you, Soul."

"Yeah, sure." Soul deadpans and turns back to Maka, managing a slight smirk at her flushed pink face. His hands grip her shoulders, finding them tense, and he straightens her back. "Don't slouch, at least not until you're a pro like me." Soul teases. She merely grunts, hiding her face from him and sitting straight as he demanded. "You've almost got it, Maka. A couple more hours and you can relax." He gives her shoulders a meaningful squeeze and heads for the door, making his way past a sly-looking Justin Law.

"Are you alright in here, Maka?" Justin asks, receiving a mute nod. "Good! Keep going!" And he shuts the door and turns to Soul, whose half-way to the exit already. "Very slick, very sneaky indeed. I never took you to be quite the incubus, Soul, I'm impressed!"

"A _what?_"

"Incubus, the male opposite of a succubus—!"

"Don't go projecting your weird fantasies on me." Soul deadpans immediately, ignoring Justin's justified shouts of pure love and joy in favor of walking down the hall and ruffling his hair in frustration at his teachers bad timing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>13.<br>**_I dropped it, I dropped it! And on the way I dropped it_

* * *

><p>"Maka."<p>

She refuses to look up.

"Makaaaa."

She turns the page in her textbook.

"Maka!"

She's half-way through the page already.

"Maka, you can't ignore it. You have to play at that wedding," Soul reminds smugly, laying on the couch with his feet propped up on the armrest.

"I _do not _have to play at the wedding!" Maka snaps, slamming her textbook shut. She turns irritate green eyes to him and slits them when he merely yawns, the epitome of cool and relaxed. "You were the one who told her I would!"

"_I_ never told her I would: _she_ said you would," Soul corrects lazily.

"And _I _say I won't! Soul, I barely passed with Justin and you know it! He was going easy on me," Maka ignores him when he rolls his eyes, "and if I play at Blair's wedding, I might..." Maka swallows, not wanting to think of that. To ruin someone's wedding day because nerves got the best of her is something Maka doesn't want to ever live with. "I won't do it!" She turns back to her textbook, searching for the page she left off at.

"You won't screw up," Soul sighs. He shifts to look at her and watches her struggle to focus on the words on the page. He can imagine how frustrating it must be to concentrate on studying while cussing him out for his own negligence. But Blair sounded quite excited at the idea of Maka playing at her wedding and he knows that Maka won't be able to reject the offer soon. But the more time she wastes, the less time they have to practice, and if she doesn't get moving and make a decision already, she really won't be able to play at the wedding.

Not that he'd ever let her go in blind. He knows the song by heart already and if she were to ever lose the rhythm, he would be there faithfully to take over. Of course, Maka doesn't know this. She can't know because then she'll get sloppy with the assurance that he'll take over if she starts to mess up. Soul stifles another yawn in his hand when Maka groans and drops her chin on her textbook miserably. He watches her for a second; just watching her gnaw on her bottom lip as she worries over this.

"Did you know it takes 200,000 frowns to make one wrinkle?"

Maka arches a brow at him. "What are you implying, Soul?"

"Nothing, just a fun fact," Soul innocently says, snickering when she shakes with fury at his implication before deciding it isn't worth it and she goes back to worrying about just _how _she's going to convince the ever-flamboyant Blair to retract her offer. She's sure that by now Blair had already rattled off the news of who'll play at her wedding to _everyone_ she knows and just the thought of rejecting it, of having Blair reluctantly tell everyone she knows that there has been a change of plans, embarrasses her. She doesn't want to embarrass Blair but she also knows that trying to memorize that wedding march will be a challenge. Here she thought she didn't have to touch that instrument again, Maka sighs softly, she'll have to break her back memorizing another song _again_.

"Hey," Soul's suddenly very close. She can feel him sitting behind her on the couch, his ankles digging into the sides of her stomach to grab her attention. Maka sits upright, slipping between his legs. She looks behind her, looks up at Soul who watches her through the soft fringes of his silver hair with a crooked smile. "Don't stress over it. I know you can do it."

"But I'm not that good.."

"Justin wasn't going easy on you when he graded you on the two pieces. He gave you the grade you deserved. He said he wasn't going to grade you easy because you had me as a tutor," Soul reveals. "You earned that A. I know you can do it. This one isn't that hard, either, it's easy."

"That's what _you_ think!" Maka miserably sighs and fully leans back against the couch. She tips her head back, looking up at him while he looks down at her with that same easy smile on his face. His ankles cross over her stomach, pulling her against the couch. "You're a prodigy."

"I'm not."

"Says the guy who memorized the keys in a whole day and never forgot where each one was," Maka mumbles, surly, and closes her eyes. She tenses when she feels his hand fall on her cheek, his fingers fleeting over her nose and eyelids. She doesn't open them; she only basks in the sensations of having his fingers caress her skin. "What if I can't do it by her wedding date? Her wedding is less than three weeks away, Soul... it took me almost two months to play those two songs decently."

"I'll be there to help you," Soul simply says. He marvels the skin of her cheek, so soft and plush, and his eyes stray to her lips before he can stop them. They linger on the pink swell of her bottom lip and he wonders if it'll be too cheesy to bend down and kiss her. His eyes suddenly flash to her wide open ones, which stare up at him curiously. He hopes she hasn't had them open for long: he was unabashedly staring at her mouth this time. "What?" He mumbles, defensively.

"Will you help me if I mess up?"

"Of course I will. It's a wedding, I can't let you fuck that up!" He grins wolfishly.

"As long as you won't let me mess up," Maka stubbornly insists, gnawing on her lower lip again. "When do we start?"

"Today if you want. We can use my keyboard and I can start you off," Soul offers and he's disappointed when she sits upright again with renewed vigor. He should have just said tomorrow, what's the rush? He knows she'll have it down in two weeks maximum. She'll try harder for this, to please Blair and everyone in that church. He just wonders if she'll be appalled by the organ they'll be using - with four levels of piano keys; a fancy piece of equipment. He inwardly snickers at the thought of her freaking out because she doesn't know which keys to use but pushes the thought away for some other time when Maka shouts at him to hurry up.

* * *

><p>"How are you holding up, Maka?" Kid asks another day, crouched before one of the tables. His eyes are level with the table itself, seeking out anything that should obstruct its otherwise symmetrical perfection. But they swing back towards her after he asks her this question, quiet and expectant. Maka only wipes down the table next to Kid's with a tiny smile.<p>

"Fine. Considering Arachne is protecting me from Giriko, things have settled down a lot," Maka replies happily enough, moving to another table.

Kid returns his gaze to the table, slitting his eyes when a flake of dust settles upon the clean surface. His hand whips out to wipe it away and he continues his prowl. "How are things with Soul?"

"Great!" Maka beams.

"Nothing out of the ordinary?"

"Nope!"

"Nothing at all?"

"Should there be?" Maka frowns, watching Kid carefully watch the table again. He scrubs the surface with care before lowering his hand again, staring at the surface. "Kid, are you hiding something from me?"

"Never Maka!" Kid abruptly stands, folding his rag into a neat triangle and sending her a plastic smile. "I was just wondering if everything was well, is all."

"Oh, well..." Maka narrows her eyes at her friend when he doesn't meet her eyes. "I was thinking about moving out, actually."

"_Moving out?"_ Kid's eyes bulge and he looks at her, fretfully. "Why would you move out? You're much safer with Soul! I thought you liked Soul? Has he done anything below expectation - has he misbehaved in any way?"

"No! No, he hasn't, I just don't want to burden him. He only took me in because of Giriko and now that he isn't a problem, I can go back to... being on my own again!" Maka clears her throat, fiddling with her rag. "I'm sure Soul wouldn't mind - I bet he'd like it!" Maka suddenly frowns, moodily. "He's always complaining about how I wake him up too early and I make him clean up after himself! He can be such a pig - he leaves everything out and he expects me to clean it up! What am I, his maid?" Maka's grumbles continue as she wanders to the other side of the cafe, to the table that recently vacated and needed to be wiped down.

"Do _you_ want to move out?"

Maka looks over her shoulder at Kid, who is now staring down a different table. "I just said I would!"

"Out of guilt but do you, personally, want to move out?"

Maka hesitates. "Well...no, not really." She turns back to her table, spraying it and wiping it down thoughtfully. "It's a lot of work to keep the house clean but it's much better than how it was before, when I wouldn't do anything all day except read and...study. Soul gets me out of the house a lot - yesterday he took me out to eat at some burger place even though I offered to cook. He said it's okay to go out to eat every now and again... I never thought about it that way," Maka smiles but it's bitter, "but then again, going out anywhere where I used to live was asking for trouble."

"Then stay," Kid moves onto the next table, wiping it down furiously until it shined. "Despite his constant whining, Soul doesn't mind having you there. He enjoys your company. He's been more receptive recently."

"He's always like that," Maka states.

Kid smiles secretively but doesn't contradict her. He only moves onto the next table and wipes that one down, too, and is happy with his job until Black Star comes back from the back room wielding a mop like a sword and accidentally cracks the wood in half during his demonstration.

"AH SHIT!" He gapes, staring at the broken mop with horror. His eyes flash to Kid and he tosses the pieces at him like they were on fire. "KID DID IT!"

"What - ouch, you moron, look at what you did! You ruined the symmetry of the tables - AH! THIS MOP, IT'S NOT BROKEN EVENLY DOWN THE MIDDLE, YOU DISGUSTING SCUM! DO IT RIGHT NEXT TIME!" Kid shouts violently, swinging a broken piece of the mop at a guffawing Black Star.

"Nygus is going to _kill_ you Black Star! That's the third mop in a whole month!" Maka shrieks, picking up the fractured pieces of the unfortunate mop from a raging Kid.

"_Me?_" Black Star laughs. "But Kid did it!"

"I did no such thing!" Kid snaps.

"Yes, you did!"

"I'm quite sure I did _not_! If I had done it, it would have been done perfectly!"

"Yeah, right, you were trying to upstage the star and you failed! Hyahaha!"

"You're _ridiculous!_"

Maka sighs as the two men argue and takes the broken mop out to the trashcans. Nygus really _does_ need to have a one-on-one with Black Star; he was always breaking things around the cafe and Nygus was on a tight budget right now. Maka has trouble with the knob of the door that leads to the alley, it's almost as if someone is trying to open it just as she is, and she gasps when it suddenly breaks in her hand. She looks nervously over her shoulder and sighs in relief when she sees no one saw that. Maka cringes when the door just falls open, the knob no longer locking. That would be a problem that needs to be addressed right away and hopefully she won't be in too much trouble for it. After all, the knob was seemingly already broken. Or at least tampered with...

Maka pauses before she steps out.

The knob was _tampered_ with...

"AH!" Maka stumbles back when a hand whips out from beside her, missing her collar by a hairs breadth. She shoves a broken piece of the mop at the shadowed man, tripping on the second piece. But her foot manages to slam the door shut, crushing the guys foot. And she recognizes the howl of pain, the snarl of her name, and she crawls away from the door when it slams open again to reveal one furious Giriko, his mocha eyes just as terrifying as she remembers them to be.

"You little bit- !" Giriko growls but he takes a breath to calm himself. Almost self-consciously, he shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and mutters: "I heard Blair got hitched."

"What about it?" Maka spits, slow to stand. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"I ain't here to fight," Giriko bites out. "I'm here cuz I heard Blair got hitched and I wanna' know to who."

Maka blinks, suddenly aware of something. "...I don't know."

"Huh?"

"I - I don't know who she's marrying!"

"The fuck? Weren't you two tight or something?"

"I...I haven't spoken to her in awhile and, well, Soul answered when she called!"

Giriko gives her a blank stare. "You're a dumbass."

Maka flushes. "What?"

"Forget it. I'm wasting my time. Later, tiny tits," Giriko sneers as he walks off, leaving Maka gawking and embarrassed. She doesn't quite know what just happened or why Giriko wants to know who Blair is marrying but this has to be the friendliest encounter with the man Maka has ever had. She stands there for a moment then moves to pick up the mop pieces and successfully deposits them in the trashcan outside. Giriko is long gone, back to where he's been staying at, and leaves no trace of his trespass except the strong cologne he always wears. But Maka ponders his sudden reappearance as she walks back into the cafe.

"Hey, Maka, you here?"

"Soul?" Maka calls back, walking around a bend to where Soul is, his hands in the pockets of his jacket as usual. When he spots her, a smile lifts his lips. "Something weird just happened."

He arches a brow. "Weird how?"

"Giriko-weird."

He stands very still, searching for her face, before he walks over to her and demands: "He was _here?_"

"Yeah, I just finished speaking to him! He wanted to know who Blair was marrying!" Maka answers, ignoring Soul's deep scowl of disapproval. "Who _is _Blair marrying, Soul?"

"Beats me - so Giriko was here? With you?... Right now?"

"He left, he didn't want to fight."

"That doesn't mean he couldn't have _tried_ - why didn't you call for help? Kid or Black Star could have helped you!"

"I can handle myself!" Maka snaps, crossing her arms. "Arachne promised we'd be safe from him. I doubt she'd go back on her word, this is what she does for a living! If she can't even take care of two teenagers, her rep would go down and people would stop contacting her for jobs like these."

"That bitch couldn't take care of a pot of water even if someone paid her to - _oof!_"

"Shut up! She's the one who's keeping us safe right now! Some appreciation would be nice!" Maka growls, grabbing him by the ear and dragging him outside to where Kid and Black Star are; now brooding silently and on opposite sides of the room.

"Ow, ow, Maka, _ow_, that hurts!"

"What're you doing here, anyway? Don't you have something to do today?"

"I _did_ but now I _don't!_" Soul manages to get his precious ear away from her hand and rubs it furiously, glaring at her from behind fringes of white hair. "I decided to drop by for a bit." He glances at Kid, whose watching them intently, and his mood sours a little more. As if he doesn't _know_ that he's been wasting all this time trying to _look _for the right time to tell her. He just doesn't want to mess up, why can't Kid see that? Maybe because the guy never had to go through this: the sisters practically did it for him. Kid is as a dense as a rock and then some, Soul grumbles to himself while Maka raises a brow at his attitude. "After work, you wanna' go somewhere?"

"Where?" Maka asks, bewildered. She can't fathom anywhere to go after work except out to eat? She's never been one to simply go out for fun, Soul has recently been showing her what she's been missing out all this time.

"Somewhere."

"Where?"

"_Somewhere_,_" _Soul growls. "Quit worrying about it. I know what I'm doing."

"I doubt that sometimes," Maka mumbles and giggles when he sends her a look.

From the other side of the room, Kid nods solemnly at Soul's attempt and returns to crouching and watching the table for any sort of trash that dares ruin its perfect symmetry.

* * *

><p>"...I haven't been to a play since I was ten..." Maka awes as she stands before the theater hours later, in the middle of a bustling crowd that eagerly awaits admission. Soul smiles as Maka drinks in all of the sights with wide, excited, eyes and he goes over his game plan quickly for the sixth time since he managed to drag Maka here from work. There isn't much to his plan and he's mostly winging it but he wants to get this over with before Blair's wedding. Hopefully what <em>is <em>his plan falls through and he doesn't have to improvise because when he improvises, shit happens and when shit happens, it's usually followed by a Maka Chop nowadays.

"The lines moving! Come on!" Maka squeals, grabbing Soul by his sleeve and dragging him behind her.

"Chill, the theater isn't going anywhere!" Soul grunts, digging into his pocket for their tickets. He hands both of them to the beaming man at the front and allows himself to be dragged in by Maka again, not as amazed by the sights as his companion is. He's been in these fancy theaters more than once although he's never gone willingly nor with a girl. He's only gone with family and by force. "Wait, let's sit here!"

"Here?" Maka repeats, puzzled. They're in the middle of the room, why not move further up?

"Trust me, you don't want to sit too far up. You'll get a better view from here," Soul advises and Maka obliges, allowing herself to be ushered down the narrow aisle towards the middle of the row before anyone else could take the seats. As she sits down, continuing to admire the stage drawn with navy blue curtains and the burning stage lights that zero into the center point of the curtains, Soul relaxes into his seat and closes his eyes for a second. He doesn't like coming to theaters because of years of being dragged to them by his flamboyant parents but Maka seemed like the type to like this sort of stuff. He wasn't wrong, either: she looks absolutely thrilled. Step one complete, Soul thinks wearily.

"I saw a version of this play," Maka whispers in his ear, making Soul stiffen, "last year in my English class. From what I've read, this is actually a better version than any of the others out there currently. But it's only been out for a few days..."

"Is it boring?" Soul asks, grinning when she gives him a puzzled look.

"You bought the tickets..."

"That doesn't mean I know to _what."_

Her cheeks puff and she growls, "You got these tickets without even _knowing _what they were for? What if this was some disturbing show about psychopaths?"

"Then we would've asked for a refund. I can get my money back if we walk out thirty minutes into the show," Soul snorts, as if she should've known this already. Maka's eyes narrow even more. "What's it about?"

"Do you know the story of Dorothy?"

Soul suddenly groans, sinking into his seat. "Aw, shit."

Maka looks confused. "What? I like it! The Wizard of Oz is a great story and this modern take on it - !"

"Maybe I can still get my money back if I leave right now," Soul mumbles thoughtfully but before he can stand up and prove his bullshit theory (since he didn't even _buy_ the ticket but he's sure they'll give him a discount on something) Maka yanks him back down by the sleeve of his jacket and fixes him in his seat with a burning look.

"You got these tickets. We're here already. So you _will_ enjoy it," Maka purses her lips when Soul exhales noisily, shifting his eyes away from hers petulantly. "Soul. You heard me?"

"_Yeah_..."

"Then act like it!" Maka hisses, smacking his head and turning to face the stage again. She honestly doesn't know what's so insufferably boring about this theatrical debut. From what she has read and what she's hearing, this play first premiered two days ago and they had been handing out free tickets in order to gather up enough of an audience. The response, thus far, has been astonishingly positive and Maka hopes the play lives up to its reviews. Maka glances at Soul, who has his chin in his palm as he glares ahead. He must have come by the tickets while taking one of his listless walks...

"Maka?" Soul whispers as the lights dim minutes later.

"What?" She leans over, keeping her eyes on the stage in case something happened. "Soul, what is it?" Maka is slow to move her eyes from the stage but when she does she's startled to find Soul staring blankly back. She jerks back and he adds in a whisper, garnet eyes taking on a look of mischief:

"_I'm bored._"

Her face warms and she growls, "Watch the play, Soul!" She crosses her arms stubbornly and stares at the stage whose curtains are being drawn to reveal the surprisingly detailed set. She's drawn in almost immediately and she doesn't pay attention to Soul's constant nag for her attention. She's sure that at one point he had bumped his head against her shoulder but she'd merely pushed him away - not entirely aware of her own movements, too engrossed with the play - and her fingers felt soft, plump, skin. But she'd dropped her hand too soon to understand what she'd touched but she's having the same problem _now_, as one finger touches something sharp and moist.

"That kind of hurts. My teeth are sensitive," Soul informs dryly and Maka gasps, jerking her hand away from him. She holds it in front of her as if burned, completely losing her focus on the play.

"_E__w!_ Now I have your spit all over my hand!" Maka squeals, rubbing her hand on her pants.

"Grow up," Soul snorts. "It's not like it's the end of the world."

"Why didn't you move away?"

"Because I'm bored!"

"So having my hand in your mouth is a way to get rid of it?"

Soul only grins wolfishly and Maka wrinkles her nose, a shudder running down her body. That was just gross and she tells herself that Soul _does_ do quite the weirdest things whenever he's struck with boredom. He's like Black Star only instead of directing all the attention to him and yelling it out to the world once he has it, he directs other peoples attention to _him_ and keeps it all to _himself_. He's selfish in that way, Maka's noticed, he doesn't take kindly to those who speak over him and he doesn't like it at all when someone is pulled away from conversation with him - _especially_ if he's bored.

"You always wondered if my teeth were sharp," Soul says, matter-of-factly. "I thought it was fair game: you can touch my teeth, I'm not dying of boredom. Everyone wins."

"That was in the beginning!" Maka defends, cheeks pinking. She hasn't directly told him, not really, but she supposes it must've shown on her face. "I'm not - _ngh_, Soul!" Maka groans, scooting away when he suddenly leans over and bares his teeth at her mockingly. She's aware that there are people sitting behind her who are giving them both the evil eye, and the lady in front of her doesn't seem very pleased with their racket either, but Maka's lost the mood of the play and she doesn't think she can catch up with Soul being so fidgety and, well, _extremely bored. _"Don't you come from a high-class family?" Maka mutters, moodily.

"So?"

"So can't you behave for more than an hour?" Maka hisses and she flashes her eyes down when she feels her arm rest be pulled up. Soon, there's no division between them, and Maka becomes Soul's new throw-pillow for the next two hours. She's literally caught between his body and the next arm rest, whose seat is thankfully empty, but she doesn't think she can maneuver her way to the other seat with this little space. She's only slightly surprised when Soul goes still - his cheek resting against her head, his fingers playing with the hem of her shirt - and stops being an annoying twit once he got himself comfortable. "Is this _all_ you wanted to do?" Maka muffles, exasperated. She means it as a joke, really, she doesn't mean it - _not totally_ - and his reply catches her unawares:

"Yes."

"Move over," Maka whispers after a few beats, gently nudging him. She feels squashed; she needs some space. He obliges, deliberately, and she sits straight again but makes sure to lean against him. She doesn't want to understand why he likes touching her when they're sitting together, or why he wants to be so close to her in general. She just likes the way his breath feathers over her skin and she likes how his weight feels assuring and strong and she likes how it feels to feel wanted. The theater is cold because one of the entrance doors is open and drafting in the chilly air from outside. She feels his hand wiggle out from between them and slid across her back, his arm wrapping around her waist and his hand slipping into the pocket of her sweater. His body warmth is almost suffocating but she doesn't dare move away, afraid he'd completely stop showing her this side of him she's liking more and more.

"So what's going on?" Soul asks in a low tone, peering at her when she stiffens suddenly.

"Well they're... I don't know," Maka admits, trying to understand just _why_ they're rapping; or what _of_. She can't, she just can't, and she looks up at Soul with a sheepish smile. "I think we missed something important."

Soul grins down at her unrepentantly and his other arm boldly reaches out to pull her closer to him. She doesn't fight it but she doesn't necessarily respond; just allowing herself to be scooped up into his arms.

"How can you be comfortable like this..." Maka whispers against his neck, pressing the sole of her shoe on the back of the seat in front of her to keep her balance. He's humming in contentment and she's starting to understand why he likes touching her and hugging her and teasing her without even trying to. It's too difficult to ignore it, especially when he stretches out a bit and presses his cheek against her temple lazily. She's not even looking at the play anymore; she can't, not with him so close without any explanation. She can't concentrate, she can't bring herself to ignore _this _that they're doing, so she shifts and she plays with the zipper of his jacket while he basks in the feel of having her so fully in his arms without a single Maka Chop to his head.

She's asleep. She doesn't know how she knows, she thinks she's stuck in that drowsy in-between of sleep and wakefulness, but she knows she's asleep and the next time she really wakes up, it's because the rumble of claps and bags of popcorn being crushed is loud enough to rouse her. She's only half-aware of what's happening when Soul leans back and she loses that toasty warm feeling. She shudders, trembling, slowly coming to, and when she looks to look at Soul, he's stretching and cracking his back and giving her a smug look.

"That wasn't half-bad actually."

"You were watching it?" Maka asks, dumbly.

"Duh, what else was I supposed to do?" He smirks, slyly. "Fall asleep? That's rude, y'know, you came to see them perform and you fell asleep...!" He laughs when she flushes red and abruptly stands. It's even colder standing and another violent tremble runs down her spine. She gives him a dirty look and barks for him to follow her and makes her way to the aisle, feeling embarrassed that she'd fallen asleep so easily. It wasn't her intention to but pressed against him like that, why _wouldn_'_t_ she fall asleep?

_It's cold! _Maka thinks miserably and then his arm is around her shoulders and she's back to being enveloped in his warmth.

"Wanna' get something to eat?" Soul suddenly says.

She feels like this question is more important than it sounds. Something in the way he's holding her so intimately, that waver in his tone, the fact that he's looking at her so intently.

"Okay. Let's go to that diner down there!" Maka points to the restaurant just visible from where they stand. "I've eaten there before! They have good food!"

His arm relaxes as he guides her towards the diner and she raises her hand tentatively, her fingers brushing against his until they twitch back to life and tangle with hers. She doesn't need words to know that whatever they've just decided to do is going to alter their relationship greatly. She leans against him and her arm wraps around his waist and he's warm and unlike the Soul she's known previously. This one is affectionate and he's the most content she's seen him in a long time and even as they enter the warm diner and the waiter finds them a seat towards the back, nearby one of the windows, he doesn't let go of her hand and they look every bit like the couple Kid described they should be.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I know I take long to update. You know why? Cuz I never finished this story when I first posted it, shame on me! I usually finish a story, edit it a million times, then post it, but this time I didn't so now you all have to suffer through my author laziness.

Also, I'm internally weeping at the cost of university. Dear god I've never seen so much money, much less held it in my hands before. I have to handle those matters, as well as others, before I can focus on my stories. Even though all I wanna' do is hole myself up in my room and type SoMa all day long until my fingers grow numb.

Damn life, sneaking up on me like this lol

_Scarlett._


	14. Chapter 14

**Soul Theory  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><strong>.14<br>**_A little boy, he picked it up and put it in his pocket._

* * *

><p>"If you leave me," she says, resting the rim of the teacup on her ruddy lip, "I'll kill you."<p>

Giriko cracks an eye open and gives her a lazy stare, lazily deciding if she's serious or not. When he decides that she is, indeed, serious about her calm threat, he closes the eye again and slumps further down on the couch. "Not if I kill you first."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"How so?"

"You think I'd walk in here unarmed? I'm not that stupid."

"Touche, but the question is who has the better sleight of hand?"

"Huh," Giriko opens both his eyes and a spark of dark glee lights them up. "Who does?" Arachne watches him sit up, resting his elbows on his knees, and when he looks at her a shudder runs down her spine at the hunger she sees in his eyes. But her eyes hold his rapidly darkening stare and when she sees his finger twitch, she's already formulating a plan to knock the weapon out of his hand. No matter what he comes at her with, she will disarm him, because some two-bit street thug was not going to get the better hand of Arachne. She feels bitterness well up in her chest when she thinks of Blair and of how many have fallen for her own web of lies. If Giriko is also being captured by that wench, well, then he will just have to suffer the consequences.

He reaches into his coat but Arachne already has him pinned with a dagger to his throat. Giriko presses the barrel into her gut, a dangerous look in his eye.

"You really think you can beat a gun, babe?" He sneers.

"You'd be surprised," she smirks.

He holds her stare blankly for a second or two before growling, anger creasing his brows, and he removes the gun from her stomach and ignores her when she goes back to her seat; dropping the dagger between her generous bosom.

"What's your deal with Blair, anyway?" Giriko moodily asks. "I know you've got some beef with her but what's it gotta' do with me?"

Arachne blows at her tea softly, looking as if she did not hear him. But she's heard every word and these are the times she prides her perfected mask of indifference. "That is none of your business," she replies with a tone of finality but Giriko will have none of that. He fixes her with a deep scowl, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.

"Yeah like I buy that load of shit. Try again, honey,"

A ripple of disgust crosses her face at his prying. But it disappears as quickly as it came and she takes a drink of her tea. "It's just something between she and I that can never be resolved."

"She stole your boyfriend, huh?"

Arachne nearly spits her tea out. She sends him a wide-eyed look of shock and he grins back, revealing a set of razor sharp teeth. She involuntarily grips her neck and feels the swollen flesh from his hungry assaults earlier. "How do you know about that? Who told you!" She demands, sharply. If Blair had been running her mouth again, it meant war.

"No one," Giriko easily says. He crosses his leg over the other cockily. "I don't _need_ to ask anyone why you and Blair are up on each others tits. You're both a couple of beautiful girls so I just _assumed_..."

"You know what they say about _assuming_," Arachne hisses, dangerously.

"I was right though!" He points out, smugly.

Arachne grips the cup so hard it nearly shatters in her hand. But she calms herself and she sets the cup down and she leans back in her armchair. She needs to stay calm, becoming emotional like this will only end in someone dying and the last thing she needs is to kill Giriko in her fit. She actually _likes_ him, to an extent. He was better than all the others fools who'd fallen right into her trap, anyway. Arachne shifts her eyes to the television to ignore him properly when he says:

"I like you better, just so you know," Giriko nonchalantly says. Despite herself, Arachne feels relief. "You give some _really_ nice blow jobs. I would pay to have you blow me every ten minutes. Actually, can I?"

Arachne scoffs, pretending to be disinterested. "Two hundred."

"WHAT? That's a fucking rip-off, are you fucking kidding me?" Giriko gawks and he's insane to even be considering it right now but he _is_ so he must be a lunatic. They're not that great, he tells himself desperately, because he seriously doesn't want to blow a thousand in less than two hours... "I'm not paying_ two hundred_ fucking dollars for you to suck my dick! Fuck that! I'll just get some whore to do it!"

"Not as good as me," Arachne loftily says.

"WHO THE FUCK CARES! It'll get sucked one way or another!" Giriko barks aggressively, glaring at her like an enraged mutt. Arachne merely chortles, picking up her fan from her lap to emphasize her triumph. He's all talk, he'd just end up glaring at her like a child all evening. "_Fine_," he suddenly says and she raises a brow at his decidedly calmer tone. "I'll just ask _Blair _to do it."

"She's getting _married_, you twit."

"So? She's a nympho, she'll do anyone with the right _encouragement_," Giriko taunts, smirking when Arachne snaps her fan closed suddenly.

She regards him coolly. "Get on your knees and I'll think about it," and she relishes the sight of him willingly getting down on his knees with that crooked grin of his as her dress rides up her thighs. Her eyes dart to the clock that hangs overhead and she figures they can cram in a session or two if they're quick. Blair's wedding is not too far from beginning and Arachne doesn't want to miss the sight of her rival walking down the aisle in a white dress that really should be black.

* * *

><p>"Maka, <em>relax<em>," Soul yawns and watches the petite blonde pace the backroom of the church in a tizzy. She's wearing a pretty strapless dress that reaches her knees in a flourish, tight around her midsection, the blinding color of white. Her hair is let down for the occasion, a sight Soul fully appreciates, and it's curled in soft ringlets that fall down her bare shoulders. She wrings her hands a few times and gives him a look full of panic.

"I can't do it, Soul, I barely know half of it and did you _see_ that thing? I don't know how to use it!"

"Idiot, you use it like any other piano," Soul scoffs. He admits he full-out laughed when she saw it (the look on her face was pure gold) but the good feelings had been rudely interrupted when she smacked him upside the head. "Just ignore the other levels. And I'll be there to help you, you just have to introduce it, alright? You got the intro down?"

"That's _it_," Maka faintly says.

"Good," Soul smiles lazily.

"How can you be so calm about this? I can't play it, Soul, I can't, I _will _screw up!" Maka hisses, starting to convert her anxiety into anger. She lifts her lip in a snarl when he only shrugs and glances at the clock as if it's nothing of interest that she's about to play at her mother-figures wedding and she does not even know half of the bridal march. "CAN'T YOU BE A LITTLE MORE CONCERNED ABOUT THIS?"

"Shh, lower your voice, Maka," Soul presses a finger over his lips, gazing at the door for a moment. "You don't want Blair to hear you and come running in..." The first time he met her, his eyes had been drawn to her huge tits. He couldn't help it: they were just _there_, extremely huge, just _there. _And then he'd tried to high-tail it right out of there when the woman squealed and tried to squish him to her. He was not getting anywhere _near_ that woman and provoking Maka's wrath somehow. She looked ticked off at it was when she caught him staring.

"Ugh, you're so useless!" Maka groans to herself. She sits down in a chair finally and twists the hem of her dress around a finger. She bounces her leg over the other as she waits for the time to come. Because it _will_ come and when it comes, she'll have to face that accursed instrument and hopefully (here she's praying) _hopefully_ not totally forget everything she tried to cram in at the last second. She's always been good with cramming and although she can probably write the bridal march if someone asked her to... her fingers don't have that dexterity that Soul's do. They trip and stumble and second-guess themselves too much. She still doesn't trust herself to let herself go in the music, to dive in like Soul is always eager to.

She feels his hands grip her shoulders, starting to massage away the tension that keeps her back rigid. "Relax, you'll be _fine_," Soul soothes.

"No, I won't."

"Trust me, it will."

"It won't. I barely know it."

"Pretend this is another test."

"Oh, _god..."_

_"_Uh, wrong comparison! Pretend this is a mock exam!"

Maka glares up at him.

Soul blew out a flat breath. "Just trust me when I say _everything_ will be fine!"

"Maka! Soul!" A particularly busty woman with auburn hair and bright blue eyes chirps, peeking her head into the room they're in. Maka thinks her name is Arisa or Marisa; she wasn't paying attention at the time. She was too busy admiring the cathedral then staring in horror at the thing that she was supposed to use to play the bridal march. Soul had laughed when he caught her expression. Maka has reason to believe he was expecting this. "It's _time!_ Aren't you excited? I am! Ooh I can't wait!" She beams, practically sparkling.

Maka looks sick to her stomach.

Soul just takes her hand and leads her to where the instrument of her imminent mortification lay.

* * *

><p>Blair peeks out of her dressing room for the fifth time, gripping the lace and silk skirts of her blindingly white dress. She gnaws on her lightly painted lips, turning back inside after seeing no one in the hall. She is vainly waiting for Maka to come as she hadn't properly greeted her yet ( it was all a rush of squeals and hugs and Blair chasing after that cute boy who trailed after Maka like some adorable puppy). But Blair knows that she is probably rehearsing the bridal march and stressing over it as she always did. But Blair needs a little advice, perhaps some reassurance, because she's getting cold feet.<p>

Then again, she's had these uncomfortable feelings since she accepted that ridiculously expensive wedding ring.

She got caught up with the wedding planning process of the entire thing. Blair defends herself, relieves the feelings of guilt, by saying that she was too busy making everything as perfect as possible to think about what she was committing herself to. Perhaps she was a little too enamored by the amount of money he was flinging in her face. She's always had a taste for the finer things; can anyone blame her when this rich bastard decides to share his surname with her and she accepts, kissing him fully on the mouth but caressing the pocket that holds his wallet?

It wasn't like he truly loved her. Blair doesn't feel loved so much as she feels objectified. She feels as if he's showing her off to his friends and family, like he's saying 'haha look at what I have and you don't!'. It's not a feeling of appreciation for who she is but for how she looks; for what she's become, an escort with all the right skills. These doubts don't include her own selfish wishes: can she really stay faithful to this man? She's cheated on so many men, she's treated so many of them like trash, she's loved some of them truly but received bad treatment in return. She doesn't think she can suddenly leave that lifestyle for one of boring domesticity. She doesn't think, Blair realizes with widening eyes, she can leave this hedonistic lifestyle just yet.

She's not ready. She's not ready to get married off, to be branded as a one-mans woman.

She doesn't even love him; she doesn't feel anything for him unless you count the glee she feels whenever he buys her something new or lets her have free reign of his credit cards. All four of them.

"Risa! Risaaa!" Blair hisses when she peeks out of the room again and conveniently spots Risa skipping by. The girl blinks at being addressed but quickly scurries up to her, beaming at the woman. "Where's Maka?"

"She's down with the choir, why?"

"Can you get her? I need to speak to her!" Blair insists.

"Oh, but she looks so focused!" Risa pouts and Blair growls in her throat like an annoyed cat.

"_Risa!_"

"Oh, alright, alright! I'll go get her!" Risa giggles, swatting her arm playfully. She bounces away and Blair retreats back into her room. She twists her hands and looks at herself in the vanity mirror. Such a beautiful woman stares back; with eyes that burn like gold and a body that most, if not all, desire with a raging passion. She's been called perfect, gorgeous, a succubus, sexy - everything. She's been called everything, even the worst of names, and she's grown used to the compliments and she's grown used to the different types of affections and she's grown used to that steady pile of money that flows in from her job. Most would be disgusted with her profession but Blair can't help it. She _chose _it, she chose this. It's her body, her lifestyle. It's _her_ decision, what she does with her life, and as Blair removes the veil with a resigned look, she can't ruin this man, who might actually come to love her in time, because she knows damn well she will not keep her hands to herself if some sexy man decides to make moves on her.

"Blair?" Maka whispers, peeking inside. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Maka!" Blair squeals and drags her into a crushing embrace. As Maka struggles to breathe, Blair woefully and dramatically cries: "I can't do this, Maka! I can't!"

"_What?_" Maka chokes. "What do you mean, you can't do it?"

"I mean, I can't," Blair simply says. "Blair can't just... stop being who she is for this man. Blair has only known him for three months and, really, Blair only knows the pin to his account and the code to the gate of his estate! She doesn't know anything about him and...even though this may be my chance to finally live a stable life... I don't think I can live that way," she finally says, softly. Maka rubs her arm, listening grimly. "I know you hate it, Maka, but I actually enjoy this. I like my job at the cabaret club. I like what I do. And I know that if I actually go through with this, this man might actually come to love me, and if I can't?"

"What if you _do? _Something can happen, things change!"

Blair just shakes her head, sadly. "I know I won't."

Maka stays silent for a moment, digesting this, realizing that she's basically going to jilt the man, and she says, "So you're just going to leave him at the alter? Just like that? Why don't you talk to him about this?"

"Mouuu, he's scary when he's angry! He can be so mean, Maka-nya, you have no idea!" Blair whimpers, squishing her to her chest again. "Blair will just leave quietly through the back!"

"With who?"

"Juan. He'll be here in twenty minutes!"

"...Who the _heck_ is Juan?"

Blair grins sheepishly and Maka gawks, wanting to run a hand down her face at Blair's predictable nature. She should have expected this! She appreciated men too much, Maka thinks with a resigned sigh, _far_ too much. "But, Blair, you have to be out there in twenty minutes! You have to leave _now_ if you expect to... be able to make it out without any trouble!"

"I know!" Blair giggles.

"Be serious!"

"I _am!_" Blair pouts. Blair hurries back to the vanity and grabs her purse, which holds everything she needs. "And I'm sorry for flying you all the way here for nothing, Maka-nya, but here! Blair will make it up to you!"

"Wh - what is this? Money? No, Blair, it's okay! I just came to see you! I really don't mind!" Maka flusters, pushing away the bills Blair was handing her. Blair pouts and insists, forcing her fingers over the bills but Maka only pushes the money back; never having been one to take such things so flippantly and Maka's sure this money belongs strictly to the soon-to-be jilted groom. If she takes it, Maka will feel extremely guilty since she's basically helping the bride escape. Taking his money is just adding insult to injury. "It's okay, Blair..."

"Blair's sorry she has to leave you again so soon," Blair smiles regretfully at Maka. She twirls a strand of her hair between her fingers and smiles down at her warmly. "But Soul will take care of you. He's been taking good care of you, I'm glad. You look happy, Maka, that's all I want you to be."

Maka smiles back wanly and reaches around her to hug her one last time. "He does make me happy."

"Good," Blair smiles kindly, her golden eyes warming. "Keep him. But keep him on a tight leash, okay, don't let him go. Don't let someone like that go, like Blair did once." She doesn't let Maka look up as she says that. She keeps her cheek pressed against her shoulder as Blair pets her lovingly. "Don't make the same mistake, Maka."

"...Okay."

"Now, go! Juan should be out by the back by now," Blair says with a ready smile. She holds Maka out at arms length, just taking her in one last time. Maka does the same and she's able to keep her tears in this time. It doesn't hurt as bad because Maka knows that when she goes back out, Soul will be there and he can ease away the aches with simple whispers and caresses. "Take care, okay, Maka? I'll call you when I get to Aguascalientes!"

"...Aguascalientes?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Juan is - !"

"I know, Blair, the name is obvious! But, _Mexico...?_"

"I've always wanted to goooo!" Blair whines, giggling when Maka rubs her eyes out but huffs out a laugh.

"Just make sure to call."

"Of course!" Blair beams.

* * *

><p>"Hey, what she want you for?" Soul asks when he spots Maka approaching him, looking more than a little haggard. She smiles tightly and, after taking a quick look around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, she tells Soul exactly what happened in the dressing room. His expression goes from a gawking shock to nothing; just a blank mask, nodding ever so often to tell her that he's listening. And when she finishes, taking a breath and waiting for his input on this turn of events, all he has to say about it is:<p>

"...Don't _ever_ do that if you get married," Soul flatly replies. "Seriously, leaving the groom at the alter is _not_ cool."

Maka sits on the bench, facing the ivory keys. She smiles secretly as she says, "I'm never getting married so that would never happen!"

"Never?" Soul says, skeptically.

"Nope. It'll take a special man to make me say yes," Maka placidly tells him and he hums but takes the challenge. She feels his arms trap her against the instrument, his lips feathering the side of her cheek. She leans against him, closing her eyes, letting him wrap his arms around her. No one can see them unless they peer over the side of the instrument. Not that anyone will be doing it any time soon - or not, Maka thinks with a dragging sigh. Everyone will be crowding around her and the groom when the bride doesn't walk down the aisle. By this time, she should be quite the ways away from the church with that new lover of hers. Maka wonders if this Juan guy is worth all this trouble (because from what Blair said, her fiancee, now ex, was not one to be trifled with).

"So, she's with another guy right now?"

"Mm. She said his name was Juan."

"Juan?"

"She's going to Mexico for a bit," Maka admits. "Maybe until all of this blows off?"

"For a whore, she isn't stupid," Soul mutters and grunts when Maka pinches his arm warningly.

"MAKA! It's almost time - oh, my, am I interrupting something?" Arisa giggles perversely. Soul's arms drop away from Maka and said girl busies herself with stacking the music sheets again, ignoring the flush that's crawled up her neck.

"_No_," Soul glares. "What do you want?"

Arisa pouts. "Well, I just came to tell you that it's almost time! Two minutes and counting!" She cheers, oblivious to their uneasy looks, and she bounces away and leaves them to their own devices. But they're not alone for long. Arisa returns soon after, gesturing for Maka to start. Despite knowing that Blair was no longer in the church (or anywhere near this side of town by now) she still felt anxiety cloud her thoughts. Her hands tremble and taking in air was becoming more of a chore as she prepared. But she starts the dreaded bridal march strongly - at least until she reaches the second page, then it all goes downhill from there. She stumbles twice and her hands suddenly, involuntarily, stall over the keys. There's only a two second awkward pause before other hands, more experienced than her, take over in her stead.

Maka watches with some amazement as Soul continues where she left off at; the march coming stronger, more fluent, than when she had done it. Maka is slightly envious of his facility with this instrument of doom but the feeling is brushed off when he nudges her to the side and she scoots over so he can sit down. Maka watches with admiration as he plays the song without taking a glance at the sheet. It's as if he knows it by memory and Maka wonders if, as she nearly killed herself trying to memorize it all in time for the wedding, Soul, too, did his own fair share of studying.

"Get ready," Soul murmurs, distracting her from her thoughts.

"For what?"

"I'm almost done," Soul explains and Maka cringes. She dares to stand and peek around to the altar and the pews, seeing all the guests begin to murmur to each other worriedly. She can see Arachne and Giriko towards the back. It's hard not to be able to spot them as Arachne's dress is black and borders on indecent with how low her neckline is. She has an elaborate Chinese fan covering her mouth but just by the way Giriko smirks, Maka knows she's laughing behind that fan. Maka looks towards the groom up on the alter, whom is nervously tugging on his collar, and feels a sudden wave of sympathy for him. She really does feel bad and she really does regret these times when Blair makes such rash decisions. Maka can only hope this won't be as bad as she thinks it'll be.

Soul presses the final key and silence ensues.

"...This is going to be bad..." Maka whispers into Soul's ear. He regards her silently and Arisa breaks the tense silence with an airy yet nervous laugh. Maka tugs on Soul's sleeve when Arisa scurries out to 'go get Blair' from the back and points towards the cathedrals back doors. "C'mon, we can leave through there!"

"Maka, if we leave now, everyone'll know we're in on this!" Soul hisses but follows her.

"We technically are," Maka winces. "And I'm not a good liar..."

"Don't I know," he snorts and grunts when she smacks his shoulder. They manage to sneak out of the cathedral just as the whispers and murmurs become full-blown shouts and gasps. The heavy doors shut behind them and Maka takes Soul's hand, leading him out to the sidewalk. He doesn't know where she's taking him but he follows her without question, taking a glance over his shoulder once. But the cathedral looks normal from the outside. He briefly wonders when everyone will be forced to accept that the groom has been jilted and they have to leave empty-handed when Maka calls his attention again:

"What do you want to do?" Maka asks, once they're a safe distance from the drama that's soon to ensue.

"Dunno'," Soul frowns. He knows that nearby there's a shopping mall and he's sure there's a theater there. If not, Soul decides, it's not like they're needed anywhere. They have the next two days off to do what they wanted. "Wanna' go catch a movie?"

"...Soul, you're in a tux."

"And you're in a dress and I see no problem with this."

Maka gives him a five second stare before a smile brightens her eyes and she grabs his hand again. "Okay! I want to watch that new movie - the one with - !"

"NO!"

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"I already know which one you're talking about! It's that chick flick, isn't it? The one you were raving about last week?"

"It's a_ good movie_ if you give it a chance! I read the reviews! It's worth it!"

"Nope. We're watching - !"

"NO!"

"Whaaat, you didn't even let me finish!"

"Neither did you!" Maka sticks her tongue out at him as they approach a mall. They ignore the strange looks they receive as they walk into it, searching for the theater. When Maka spots it on the second floor, they then begin to search for the nearest escalator. "Can we watch both?" Maka asks as they approach the ticket booth.

"Theater hop? Sure."

"No, I meant buy two separate tickets. For _each_ movie."

"What?" Soul gives her a weird look. "Why would you do that when you can buy one and watch all?"

"Because it's illegal?"

"We don't even _live_ here!"

"But that doesn't mean we can't get in trouble!" Maka gives him a stern look and he finally reigns to her demands, glaring at his shoes while Maka asks for two tickets to the first movie; he thinks he's the rom-com one but he's mildly surprised it's the one he wanted to watch. At her tentative smile when she hands him the ticket, he figures she just feels guilty and decides he'll coax her into theater hopping with him after this movie.

"You think Blair will be fine?" Soul asks as they both settle back in their seats. He tugs his tie loose and shrugs off his blazer, tossing it to Maka. She folds it and places it on her lap. Maka places the bag of popcorn between them and rests her shoulder against Soul's snugly.

"Yeah, she'll be just fine," Maka assures him happily. "She did this before but I didn't find out about it until she showed me the ring a week later, after she ditched him. I was so mad. What if she _actually_ got married and I wasn't there? Blair said the next time it happened, she'd invite me. At least she kept her promise even though she left...again."

"She can't go back with you, though" Soul states. "Not yet, right?"

"Giriko doesn't seem to have any grudge against her anymore," Maka points out. "Not since Arachne..."

Soul shrugs. "Doubtful he'll drop it completely."

Maka breathes out, deciding that thinking about that will depress her, and tries to focus on the movie.

"Y'know," Soul casually begins. "I don't think marriage is half-bad."

Maka tenses. "You don't?"

"Nah. I think it just makes it more official. It's the same thing just you get a fancy new last name, a ring, and probably all of my assets," he chuckles. Maka doesn't miss the sudden change in tenses: from general to personal. She nervously plays with a button on his dress shirt before allowing a smile to grace her face.

"And don't forget the motorcycle."

The smile is wiped from his face. "Oh hell no. No one gets my motorcycle, that's mine!"

"That'll be the only thing I leave you with," Maka laughs and buries her face in his chest when his arm comes around her shoulders. He squeezes her arm and she can hear a waver in his words as he says:

"Like you'd leave someone as cool as me..."

"I wouldn't," she promises and tightens her arms around him to reinforce it.

"Neither would I," he says after a moment. His muscles begin to relax when she only nods and he leans against her comfortably. They don't speak about this anymore; they don't speak about it for a long time. They go about their daily motions without even letting the thought of marriage cross their minds. The thought of becoming engaged comes up many years later, when Soul is waiting for Maka to come out of the grocery store, his fingers tapping an idle beat against her car, and she comes out pushing a cart with a tiny smile on her face that grows when she spots him.

It just hits him, in that instant, a split-second of imagining a ring glistening on her finger and of thinking she'll be Maka Evans not Maka Albarn if she accepted, and the idea grows on him; grows and grows until the next thing he knows, he's standing before an engagement ring store, having already accepted he will waste a good fortune on that perfect ring for a perfect girl, anxiety eating at him from the inside out.

And that conversation inside the theater comes up, reassuring him a little, and there are so many other things that assure him she will never reject him, not after all they've been through together, that when he does walk into that engagement ring store, he knows that he was right when he said nothing will change if they ever decided to marry. It will stay the same, all the same: they'll still live together, eat together, sleep together, shower together (when she felt giving), do everything together as they always have.

She'll just have a ring on her finger and his last name.

He decides that's the best life can give him and buys that engagement ring with no regrets.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **THE END!

So you know what _that_ means? You guessed right! _New stories!_ Because everyone likes new stuff, neh? I've been meaning to publish this one story I wrote awhile back since I haven't read one of its kind on this site. So, anticipate that one sometime between...1 hour and Friday. I can't publish anything after Friday because I'm going to Chicago to check out my university's campus! :D

S_carlett._


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